RETRIBUTION
by Aggie Escott
Summary: The team get a weekend off. Aaron / Spence centric. I love to get your reviews, m' dears! Please R&R!
1. Freedom

WRITTEN BY - Lip splittin' thirst makin' babe smashin' Aaron bashin' pill eatin' fic completin' Tommy dreamin' meet 'im schemin' on 'im jumpin' ever whumpin' AGGIE  
With apologies to Pepsi

**RETRIBUTION**

Chapter 1  
Freedom

"_**The only reason why we ask other people how their weekend was is so we can tell them about our own weekend." - Chuck Palahniuk**_

Doctor Spencer Reid put his pen down with a flourish, and looked around the deserted bullpen. Everyone else had gone to the pub (the girls and Morgan) or had gone to Aaron's to eat pizza, drink beer and watch the game (Dave, and Aaron). He had been invited, but one tooth cracking experience trying to eat a Hotchnerised pizza was enough, at least for this week. No, Spence had his free weekend planned down to the last minute – he was going to spend all of them reading graphic novels and scanning e-bay. He thought he might even go to bed.

He put the pen in the drawer of his desk on top of his laptop, and locked it, and dropped the key into his messenger bag. He realised that he was smiling.

"Two days to myself." he said out loud. He decided that on the Sunday afternoon he would call Aaron and ask him to come over. He had a new game, and the two player was much better then the one player version. He knew Aaron wouldn't have a clue, but that made it even more fun. Aaron knew how to laugh, even though many who thought they knew him would disagree.

As he got into the lift he was laughing out loud. Aaron couldn't even do Space Invaders! Computer games and pizza – not exactly Aaron's forté.

As the doors opened on the parking level, he had his head down, trying to find his car keys in the bottom of his bag. He was unconscious on the floor before his brain even registered the man by the lift doors with the baseball bat.

"_You hit him too hard! That wasn't necessary."_

"_We have to knock him out. Otherwise he will remember. Stop moaning and help me lift him."_

Completely out cold, he was unaware of the two men who lifted him up and dumped him in the boot of the car. The lid was slammed shut, and the car quickly drove away up the ramp. Reid's own car followed it out into the early evening traffic.

-0-0-0-

"So, JJ, you going to spend the weekend with Will?" Emily said, smiling at JJ's growing baby-bump.

"Of course!" She looked at her watch. "Plane leaves in three hours. I'll have to get going soon." She turned to Garcia. "What about you?"

"I'm off to Camelot for a romantic break." she said, also checking the time. "I have to go; he'll be waiting for me!" Morgan laughed. He was planning to gate crash the game soon. He was working on a character called the Dark Warrior. As soon as he was ready, 'watch out Lady Penelope'!

The other two grinned at her. "When are you going to meet him in the non-virtual world?" Emily said. "You've been adventuring with him for two years now."

"Oh, never!" Garcia said, determination in her voice. "There's no way I'm going to spoil what we have." She picked up her glass and drained the last inch of ale. "See you Monday, girls!"

"Yeah. And me." JJ said, picking up her bag. "Enjoy!"

Emily sat quietly with Morgan for a few minutes, before she followed them out. She was going to spend the weekend watching NCIS. A bit sad, really, but the thought of two days doing what she wanted was great. Although she was glad the other two didn't ask her what she was going to be doing.

Morgan was getting up, downing the last drop from his glass. "I'm going on to Night Owls." he said to Emily. "Do you wan to come along?"

Emily smiled at Morgan. "Thanks, Derek, but it's not for me. But you have fun now!"

"Sure will, Ems!"

She stood and swung her bag over her shoulder.

Two days! Wonderful.

-0-0-0-

Aaron took the pizzas out of the oven and scowled at them. Why couldn't he do it? Surely it wasn't that hard!

He put his foot on the pedal and opened the bin, depositing the black discs on top of the previous black discs.

"I give up." he said in exasperation. "I am going to starve to death at this rate!" He got out his mobile and called Domino's.

"Ah hello, Mr. Hotchner! Same as usual?"

Aaron frowned at the phone. "Erm...yes, only I'd like two this time, and can you leave the jalapeños off one of them please."

A chuckle. "Sure, Mr. Hotchner. Is an hour ok?"

Aaron checked the time. Dave was due round in fifty minutes. "Could you make it three quarters of an hour please. I'll pay extra."

"Ahh there's no need for that, Mr. Hotchner. You keep us in business as it is. Forty five minutes it is. Have a nice evening." And they hung up.

Aaron slumped down in his arm chair with a sigh. He thought of converting his kitchen into a study. He certainly couldn't cook in it! He got up and went to the fridge and helped himself to a beer; nice and cold – he at least got that right. He went back to the chair and started drinking it, wishing the time would go a bit faster. Just the one beer for now, he promised himself. It was a mistake to drink alone, and he knew it. He experimented with a smile, and found he still couldn't do one. He realised that it was a long time since he had been really happy.

He made a decision to call his old shrink friend Gerry Emerson in the morning, see if he could have an 'off the record' chat about things. He leaned back on the chair and tried to relax.

When the door was knocked a little while later, he hoped that it was the pizza guy and not Dave. He didn't want to admit to him that cooking a frozen pizza was beyond him. He opened the door.

"Hi Dave." He tried to smile again, but it looked more as if he was about to cry. "Come in. The ...uh...pizza hasn't arrived yet."

-0-0-0-

JJ had called Hotch to ask for some personal time, so she wasn't expected back in the BAU until Tuesday. Dave and Hotch arrived together at eight, and Morgan was already there. He was leaning his head on his hand, going through his paper work. He was nursing day two of a hangover, but he was sure he was not going to tell anyone. He looked down at the page in front of him, and wondered why Reid wasn't in doing it for him like he usually did. In fact where was he? He wasn't exactly late, but he was habitually early.

Dave and Aaron greeted him as they went to their respective offices. Morgan waved his hand, and opened his drawer to get two more pain killers.

Garcia bounced in in her usual indomitable way. "Hey! Gorgeous! Have a good break?" she trilled as she made for her bunker. "Mine was fab!"

Morgan grinned despite the ice pick in his eye socket. "Great, Princess!"

_Just you wait, Baby Girl! Just you wait!_

Hotch came out of his office again, and leaned on the rail around the walkway. "Ok team, debriefing in thirty minutes in the conference room." He glanced around the bullpen. "Where's Reid?"

"Not in yet, Boss." Morgan answered.

Hotch checked the time. "Well, he's not late yet. Let me know when he get's here."

-0-0-0-

Reid was in the driver's seat of his car, sleeping. The landlord of the pub whose car park he was sleeping in had noticed him late the previous evening. While he didn't want stray drunks using his car park as a free overnight stop, he understood, and it was better that they did that than drive after drinking. When he looked out the next morning and the car and occupant was still there he was a bit concerned, and he went out to check on him.

Reid jumped awake as the landlord opened the car door.

"Oh I'm sorry, mister. You have been here all night, and I was just checking that you were ok."

"I ...er...um..." Spencer stammered. "What day is it?"

"Woah! You have a wild weekend did you? It's Monday, eight fifteen am."

"Uh...th-thank you, and I'm sorry to have worried you." He gave the man a weak smile, and turned the key, which he was surprised to find in the ignition. "Was I drinking here last night?"

"Sorry I can't tell you that!" laughed the man. "We was busy last night!"

"I have to go. I'm late for work."

Spencer drove out of the pub car park and headed towards the FBI Office. But as soon as he was out of sight of the pub, he pulled over to the side of the road.

He tried to remember what he had been doing. He had been drinking, the splitting headache told him that. He put his hands on his forehead, as if this would make him remember.

It was a blank. He recalled leaving the office on Friday, going down in the lift. He could remember thinking he would ask Aaron over to play. But nothing else until now.

He stretched his arms in front of him on the steering wheel.

_Oh god! No no no!_

The track marks on his inner elbow were red and fresh. What the hell had he done?

No wonder he couldn't remember.

_Oh please, surely not! No no no no!_

Reid frantically rolled down his sleeves. No-one else could know. He felt thoroughly sick and ashamed. He needed to get home and shower and change, but he was already late.

With shaking hands he called Hotch.

"Yeah, Hotch. I slept through my alarm. I'll be in in half an hour."

With guilty tears running down his face, he turned the car around and headed for home.


	2. Degeneration

Chapter 2  
Degeneration

_**  
"I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster, or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of death from being a total surprise." - Chuck Palahniuk**_

Spencer drove slowly through the town towards his apartment. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel, but he didn't know if it was through drugs or guilt or just confusion.

_Why would I go back to the drugs again? I was so close to being clear! Why? What did I take?_

He parked outside his apartment block and took the lift to his floor. His hands were shaking as he tried to put the key in the lock. Using two hands, he eventually managed to get the key in. As the door opened, he almost fell through into the hall; he was so relieved to be in. He turned and closed the door, shaking it to ensure that it was properly shut. With a sigh, he leaned on the door, and slid down so that he was sitting on the floor.

He took out his phone and scrolled down the last numbers called. He had made three calls over the weekend, all to the same number.

A number that was all too familiar. His supplier...

He pulled his messenger bag in front of him, and in a frenzy, he tipped the contents out onto the floor. His hands were trembling

The piece of rubber tubing was the first thing he noticed. Fearfully, he spread out the contents of the bag.

_Please don't be there! Please..._

The small glass bottle and a pack of syringes. They were there, on the floor in front of him. He checked his money. He had spent some, about the right amount.

He rested his head back on the door. "No!" he screamed into the hall way. Then the scream turned into bitter crying. He hung his head, and cried devastated tears into his hands. How could he be so stupid, after all the support he had been given, especially by Aaron! How could he let him down so badly?

This time he had to do it alone. Before, it hadn't been his fault. This time, he had done it all by himself. He picked up the bottle and looked at it. Then he threw it at the wall. The bottle didn't break, and he suddenly realised that he was relieved that it didn't. He scooped everything up and put his things back in the bag. He went to the bathroom and switched on the shower. Shedding his three day old clothes, he stepped under the biting hot needles of water.

No amount of washing would cleanse him though, not after this. He sat in the shower tray and screamed and kicked at the wall in anger at his own damned stupidity.

"How could I be so bloody stupid?" he shouted."What the hell have I done?"

He put some shampoo in his hand and rubbed it in his matty hair. That was when he found the lump on the back of his head. He winced.

_No wonder I have a headache. I must have fallen while I was high..._

He carefully rinsed the soap out, trying not to touch the lump. He crawled out of the shower, and rubbed his hair with a towel, and then wrapped it around his waist. He walked to his bedroom and sat on the bed. His mobile was next to him, and he picked it up. Hotch was number 1 on fast dial. He knew he ought to call him.

_And say what? Oh I'm sorry, Hotch, but I've been wasted, out of my head all weekend on drugs, and I need some help again..._

He put the phone down again. Pretend it didn't happen. The tracks would soon fade; no-one needs to know. I'll say I've been drinking.

But he worked with the some of the top profilers in the world. They would soon know something was wrong, especially David. Nothing got past him.

"Dammit! Bloody dammit!" he shouted again, and he fell onto his side on the bed and scrunched his pillow in his face and cried.

After a few minutes of self indulgent sobbing, Spencer got up and got some clean clothes out. He picked a cream shirt with a tiny brown paisley pattern, just in case the red marks on his arm showed through. He combed his hair and tucked it behind his ears, except the long bit, which he pushed to the side. Then shaved the three days growth off his face. He cleaned his teeth and got dressed. He stood back and checked himself in the mirror. He checked to see if the tracks showed through. They didn't.

Did he look like a junkie? In Spencer's eyes, yes he did. It looked obvious to him. Pale skin, dark around the eyes, sunken cheeks. But he didn't think his colleagues would be able to tell, at least, not yet.

He attached his gun to his belt, and picked up his phone and his ID. He put them in his bag, which he retrieved from the hall floor, and left his apartment. As he waited for the lift, his phone rang.

It was Hotch.

"You said half an hour, and it's been over an hour now. Are you alright? Are you coming to work?"

"Uh...yes, Hotch. I'm sorry. I had to have a shower. On my way in now!" he answered, trying to sound chirpy. He thought he failed, but Hotch didn't mention anything.

"Fifteen minutes then. We are waiting for you."

The lift arrived and he stepped in. "I'll be right there."

He closed his phone and dropped it back in his bag. He leaned on the side of the lift and took some deep breaths. When he got to work, as soon as he got the chance, he would throw the liquid into the toilet. That would be the end of it. No one need ever know.

He walked to his car, trying not to shake, trying to look confident. He felt like a drunk trying to act sober – you know when you do everything real slow and deliberate, looking drunker than ever.

He got in the car and drove out of the parking area, heading towards work.

-0-0-0-

The short drive to the BAU seemed even shorter today. He was dreading getting to work, and his friends seeing the difference in him – those friends whom he had let down so badly.

He parked the car and walked to the lift, taking care not to look at the security cameras. He didn't want his junkie face recorded for posterity. The lift was at the car parking level, mocking him. He kept his head down, and travelled to his floor. He crossed the bullpen to his desk, not making eye contact with anyone.

"Hey, Kid, Hotch wants you to let him know when you get here. We've got a debriefing on that last case."

Reid nodded at Morgan and picked up the phone on his desk.

"I'm here, Hotch." he said. His voice sounded shaky and strange in his own ears, but no-one else seemed to notice. He scratched at his inner elbow, and followed the others into the conference room. He tapped Morgan on the shoulder.

"You ok?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

"I need to go to the men's room."

"Can't you go after? Hotch will blow his top!"

"Yeah, I guess." Reid answered. "It can wait."

His messenger bag felt too heavy to carry. He dropped it on the floor next to his chair, and sat down, waiting for Hotch to start.

The last case had been a very sad one, which is why, Reid thought, Hotch had given them a weekend off, and hadn't held the debriefing on Friday evening. They had all been touched by the case. A child killer, killing children. Spencer had been especially moved, and he had seen tears in Hotch's eyes on a few occasions during the investigation. When he and Hotch had gone to the parents of a dead child to tell them that it was their remaining child that had killed him, Hotch had broken down, and Reid had had to take over and tell them. Hotch was always badly affected by cases that involved children, and this was probably the worst they'd had to cover.

Reid glanced down at his bag.

Was that why he'd resorted to drugs? Was it that he couldn't cope any more without them? How many times had he injected? There were about ten marks that he saw, but that wasn't really very accurate. Perhaps he would be able to tell by how much was missing out of the bottle. As soon as this...

"Reid?"

...was over he would go to the men's room and...

"Reid, are you with us?"

"Uh...s-sorry, Hotch. What did you say?"

"Are you alright, Reid?" Aaron asked kindly. "You seem to be a bit out of it today."

"I've...uh...got a headache. I don't feel so good." He tried to look into Aaron's eyes, and failed. "I n-need to go to the m-men's room."

"Be as quick as you can, Reid. I want to get through this before lunch."

"Uh huh." Reid stood, and he felt himself swaying. He held the back of the chair as he bent down to retrieve his bag. He didn't think anyone noticed though. With great relief, he left the room.

Aaron watched him go, a puzzled frown on his face.


	3. Junkie

Chapter 3  
Junkie

_**Jonathan Swift wrote, "I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them not ashamed."**_

The debriefing was finally over at three thirty. After all the waiting around for Reid he had very little to contribute. Even when asked directly by Hotch if he had anything to add, he was either looking down at his hands, which he kept below the table all the time, or staring off into space. After a couple of attempts to get him to speak, Aaron didn't bother any more. The rest of the team had plenty to say about the case.

Aaron was glad when it was over. It had been one of the worst cases that he'd ever worked on, including his time before the BAU. He had worked a lot of the case with Spencer, and on more than one occasion he had come to Hotch's rescue when it got too much. He hadn't seemed to be overly affected.

And now this!

He decided he would spend a little off duty time with him, if he wasn't acting more in character by Wednesday, he would invite him over for...erm...pizza.

It was four thirty now, and it looked as if the team would all get away on time. He watched them from his office window. Morgan was walking around like a zombie on speed. He was clearly hung over, and if they had a case, it would be serious. But they didn't, so Hotch thought he'd leave it this time, just mention it casually, and not make a big deal of it.

He couldn't see into Dave's office from here. They had had a good time on Friday evening. Dave had thought it hysterical that they had had to have a take away pizza. And it was even funnier by the end of the evening after they had got tipsy on the beer. He smiled to himself at the memory. He had laughed so much his chest hurt, and it had been a long time since that had happened.

He looked at Reid again. He had a pen in his hand, and his laptop was open in front of him, and he was facing the screen. But even from here, he could see that he wasn't looking at it. His thoughts were clearly somewhere else. As he watched, Spencer suddenly got up, put his messenger bag over his shoulder, and left the office. Hotch thought, probably the men's room...again! He noticed Morgan look up withy a frown and watch him go. So Aaron wasn't the only one to be concerned

Aaron bit his lip worriedly and sighed. He thought of following him to see what was troubling his youngest team member, but he decided to give him some time first to see if he could deal with whatever his problem was without his interference. He turned back to his desk, and stared unseeingly at the papers in front of him. His mind was on Spencer. He had to think of the best way to handle it. Reid could be a bit touchy sometimes if he thought his personal life was being invaded. He would have to tread carefully.

-0-0-0-

Spencer felt eyes on him as he left the bullpen. He knew he was acting strangely, but he couldn't help it. He had even tried to make small talk with Morgan, but it sounded even to his own ears that he was reading it off a script. He went into the men's room, and locked himself in a cubicle. He took the bottle of liquid out of his bag. There was no writing on the bottle, he had no idea what was in it, just a clear liquid with no discernible smell He saw that whatever it was, half of it was used. He took off the lid and held the bottle over the toilet.

_Go on then, Genius, throw it away. When the bottle's finished, you're done for anyway. You can't get anymore if you don't know what it is!  
You will have to call your supplier and find out.  
Oh fantastic! 'Excuse me, but can you tell me what I am shooting up?'_

Spencer felt angry tears on his face as he put the lid back on the bottle. He took the rubber tube out of his bag and a new syringe.

He didn't feel the need just yet to shoot up, but he didn't want to get too badly in need before he did. He didn't want to make it too easy for the team. They would suss it out sooner or later. He would prefer later.

Sitting down on the toilet, he inverted the bottle, and stuck the needle through the lid. He drew off a dose of whatever it was, and wrapped the rubber tube around his arm, holding it in his teeth. He quickly pushed his sleeve up, and stuck the hypodermic into his skin, emptying the drug into his system.

He felt a wave of self disgust as he pressed in the plunger. One weekend, and here he was, back to the start. How many times would this happen? What was the point?

He sat for a few minutes, waiting for the tears to stop. The last thing he needed right now was Hotch calling him in and prying into his private affairs. He put the bottle, syringe and tube onto his bag, making sure they were right at the bottom. He pulled his sleeve down and did up the cuff, and headed back to work.

-0-0-0-

He hung his bag on the chair behind him. He really wanted to keep it over his shoulder, but thought that might attract too much attention. He leaned back on the strap, preventing it from falling, and to stop anybody else touching it. He made an effort to do some work. He hadn't finished his paperwork yet, and Morgan would be wondering why. Usually he finished his own and did Morgan's too. He smoothed out the sheet in front of him and began to fill in the form.

When his phone rang, he stared at it for a second or two without making a move to answer it. Emily looked in his direction.

"Hey! Are you going to answer that?"

"Uh...yes..." He reached out for the phone. For some peculiar reason, he didn't want to touch it. But a sideways frown from Morgan, and Reid picked it up.

"Doctor Reid."

He sat and listened to the caller, and put the phone down. He got up quickly, knocking his chair over.

"Was that bad news, Kid?" Morgan asked. He reached out a hand to touch Reid on the shoulder, but he was oblivious.

"I need to tell Hotchner something." Reid walked from his desk and along the walkway.

Morgan's frown deepened. Hotchner? No-one called him Hotchner.

Emily had heard too. She was standing up watching Reid approach Aaron's office. Morgan held his hand out to her.

"I'll go."

He began to follow Reid to the office.

-0-0-0-

Aaron saw Reid come towards his door. Oh good. He was coming to talk to him. Reid didn't knock, but walked straight in. Aaron stood up, and started to come round to the front of his desk.

"Hey, Reid. I'm glad you came to see me." he said, trying to smile through his concern. "Take a seat."

"I need to tell you something." Reid turned to the door and locked it.

"It's ok, Reid. No-one will disturb us. Sit down."

Reid stood and stared at Hotch. He was shaking, and he was starting to cry. Hotch stepped towards him, his hand extended.

"It's ok, Spencer. This can be off the record." Aaron said kindly.

Reid took his gun off his belt and stared at it. Hotch had his hand on Reid's shoulder.

"Tell you something." Reid said, and shot Aaron point blank in the stomach.

Aaron took two staggering steps back into his desk, his dark eyes widening in shock. His hands were on his stomach and he looked down in bewilderment at the blood welling up between his fingers. He opened his mouth to say something, but he could think of nothing to say. He tried to reach for the phone, when a second bullet hit him in the chest. He held his bloody hands in front of him, towards Reid. He shook his head slowly, and his eyes rolled upwards. He fell back onto his desk, knocking papers and the phone and the wooden prism engraved with his name onto the floor. He turned his head, and as his vision faded, he saw the picture of his little boy. Then his eyes closed, and he fell off the desk onto the floor in front of Reid.

He heard someone outside shout for the door to be opened, and then he heard nothing.

Reid stood over the body of his boss, the gun pointing at Aaron's already bleeding body. The blood was already pooling around him. As Morgan kicked the door open and he and Dave ran in, they heard Reid say,

"I need to tell you something." and he fired another shot into Aaron.

His body jerked as the bullet tore through him.


	4. Blood and Accusations

Chapter 4  
Blood and accusations

_**"Going to the electric chair will be the supreme thrill of my life." --Albert Fish**_

Dave and Morgan hesitated for the tiniest moment, trying to take in what was before them. Hotch was lying between Reid and the front of his desk, face up, his arms outstretched and his hands covered in blood. He was bleeding from a stomach wound, and another on his right chest. The third shot had hit his left shoulder. He was facing the ceiling, eyes closed, lips parted, very still.

Dave recovered first.

"Drop your weapon, Reid!"

Spencer looked down at Aaron lying in front of him, then at the gun in his hand. He brought a shaking hand up, and pointed the gun at his right temple.

"I said, drop your weapon, or I will fire!"

"I needed to tell him something." Reid said, his voice high and trembling.

Morgan could see what Reid intended to do. "No! Don't do it!"

Morgan leapt forwards, grabbing Reid's wrist, pushing his gun towards the ceiling as he fired. "Drop the gun, Reid."

Reid looked up at his hand, which was being held above his head by Morgan. Then he looked down at Aaron's bleeding body. His eyes registered profound shock "What...what happened here?...Oh god...Hotch!" He tried to pull away from Morgan and go to Aaron, but Morgan held him back.

Skirting the edge of the room, his gun trained on Reid, Dave moved towards Aaron.

Emily arrived at the scene as Reid's gun clattered to the floor of Aaron's office. She watched in shock as Morgan cuffed Reid and swung him round to face him.

"What in god's name have you done?" Morgan said, shocked and mystified.

"Me? You think I did this?" Reid said, confused. "I didn't do this! I love Hotch. I didn't do this!"

"Reid, I just saw you shoot him!" Morgan said, anger in his voice. "For god's sake, Reid, I saw you!"

"Get him out of here!" Dave said, kneeling by Hotch. He searched for a pulse, and didn't find one. Joining his hands, he started chest compressions. Each compression forced a wave of blood from his chest wounds.

"Come on, Aaron. Come on. Don't give up on me now." Dave spoke to his friend as he desperately tried to get his heart to beat, to get him to breathe.

"My god, Reid, you've killed him!" Dave shouted. "He's dead! You've killed Hotch!" Dave felt tears for his friend well up, as he desperately fought for his life.

Emily stood in the doorway, not believing what she was seeing. Morgan pulled Reid out of the room, as he pulled back, not wanting to leave. He looked back over his shoulder.

"Aaron!" he shouted. "Aaron! I didn't do this! I would never hurt you!"As Morgan dragged him out, he turned to Emily.

"I didn't do this." he said to her, his voice breaking in sobs, tears falling. "Emily, I didn't!"

Dave looked up. "Call an ambulance. Quickly Emily."

Emily ran and picked up Aaron's phone and called 911. Then she knelt opposite Dave.

"Dave, what...?"

"God, I don't know." Dave said, pressing down on Aaron's chest. "Reid shot him. I saw him shoot him."

Dave moved so that he was kneeling with one leg each side of Aaron's hips. His hands were covered in thick sticky blood. Emily could see beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. She knelt at Aaron's head. and tilting his head back and holding his nose, she got ready to breathe into his lungs. Dave paused as she breathed, and then continued.

"He's gone, Dave." she said after what seemed like hours. They heard the medics running along the walkway.

"Don't stop, Emily. Let the doctor's decide."

Dave and Emily moved out of the way and watched numbly as the paramedics worked on him. As they stood back, JJ and Garcia came to the door.

"Did I hear...Oh my god!" Garcia stared in disbelief.

"What happened?" JJ asked, stunned.

"I don't know." Dave said, running his fingers through his hair. Emily, standing next to him, tentatively put her hand on Dave's arm.

"Did Reid shoot him?"

Dave nodded. He didn't think he could speak coherently. He put his arm around Emily, and she cried on his shoulder. JJ and Garcia were holding each other as Aaron was lifted onto a trolley. One medic sat astride him, keeping up the compressions. Another repeatedly pumped air into his lungs. Another was attempting to stop the bleeding. Two of the gun shot wounds were through and through. The GSW to his chest still had the bullet inside.

"Ok1 Move him out."

The four of them watched in stunned silence as Hotch was wheeled to the lift surrounded by medics trying to revive him. Blood dripped from the trolley leaving gravitational drops along the walkway.

"Do any of you want to travel with him?" Dave asked.

Garcia and JJ said they would, and followed the group into the lift. Garcia took Aaron's hand, and stroked his hair back.

"They're taking you to the ER, Hotch." she said. "Hang on, and stay with us. You're going to be fine."

She looked at JJ. Neither of them thought he was going to be fine. His pale skin contrasted wildly with his bright blood, which was now running from the corner of his mouth. The patches on his stomach and chest had merged together, and blood was dripping from the trolley.

He still wasn't breathing, and his heart was still.

-0-0-0-

Dave sat in a grey painted room opposite Reid, a screwed down table between them. Many times, Reid thought, he had interviewed UnSubs right here. He had never been on this side of the table though, and he felt sick, frightened and confused. He looked away from his hands, and across the table at Dave. Morgan, he assumed was the other side of the mirror that took up most of one wall.

Dave had his head in his hands. Reid saw that Dave was covered with Aaron's blood; his hands, the front of his shirt, his shirt sleeves. He had a smear on his left cheek where he had wiped a tear away.

"Why did you do that?" Dave asked at last, his voice shaking with emotion. Any questions seemed inadequate. "What in god's own name were you doing?"

"I...I don't know...I c-cant remember...I can't rem...remember doing anything." He looked into Dave's eyes. "I couldn't hurt him, Dave. I wouldn't!" Reid was crying now, bitter sobs and heavy tears. "Rossi...Dave, you know how I feel about Aaron. "

Dave sighed. "You did it, Spencer. There is no doubt about that." he said. "Morgan and I watched you shoot him. He was lying in front of you, helpless, possibly already dead, and you shot him. You pointed you gun at a helpless man, and shot him."

Dave blinked back the tears. He was no longer Reid's work colleague. Read was accused of first degree murder. If he was lucky, and it was doubtful that he would be, it would only be attempted murder. Dave was interrogating a murder suspect.

"Reid, you have been acting strangely since the weekend. I want to know what happened." Dave said. "Start at Friday evening, when we all left"

Reid looked down again. Here goes, he thought. Not that it mattered anyway. If Aaron dies, he thought, Then so do I.

"I can remember going down in the lift to the car." he said. "Then I remember waking up in my car in the Tun car park."

"When was this?" Dave said, picking a blue pen from his pocket, and a pad from the table, jotting down his notes.

"Today. This morning. I woke up in the car, or rather the pub landlord woke me up. It was about eight fifteen. I can't remember anything in between. I have lost more than two days."

"Drinking?" Dave asked

Reid slowly rolled his sleeve up and rested his arm, palm up, on the table. Dave stared in astonishment.

"You're a junkie?"

Dave didn't know about Reid's experience with Tobias Henkel. Reid briefly explained.

"I have been clean now for ten months." he said. "Aaron helped and supported me all the way. I'd never hurt him..."

"But now you are back on them again?" Dave asked, finding all this very difficult to assimilate. "What are you on?"

"Before it was Dilauded." Reid said. "The stuff I'm on now is in my bag on my chair."

Dave turned to the window. "Morgan, please get someone to bring Reid's bag in." he said.

The two men sat in silence, staring at each other.

Reid felt desperate. He was used to nightmares, and he was certain that in a minute, his alarm would go off, and he would wake up. But the image of Aaron's bloody dead body lying in front of him, and the feel of the gun in his hand, was more vivid than any dream he had had before. His feelings for Aaron ran deep. He couldn't believe that he was dead, and worse, that he had killed him.

_Please...I just want to wake up. _

He folded his arms on the table, And put his head down. His body shook with sobs.

"What in the n-name of god is going on." he cried, looking up at Rossi. "I w-wouldn't hurt Aaron...I could never h-hurt him...I l-love h-him..."

"But Reid, you did. You shot and killed him. There is no doubt. I saw you shoot him; I saw his body jerk as you shot him for the third time." Rossi said. "But why, Reid. Why. He was a good man. He was always there for us...for you!" Dave couldn't control the tears any more.

"Interview suspended." he whispered, and left the room.

Reid put his head down again, and cried.


	5. Hopes and Fears

Chapter 5  
Hopes and Fears  


_**We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." - Orson Welles**_

"Ask security to take Reid down to the cells. I don't think I can look at him again today." Dave said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping tears from his eyes. Morgan nodded and went to call security. Emily arrived with Reid's messenger bag.

"Thank you." Dave said. "Lets go and see if we can find anything in here that can explain what the hell just happened."

Emily was white faced, and her eyes were red and swollen. Her breathing was jerky and erratic. She had obviously been crying.

"Any news?" Dave asked, knowing what the answer would be. If Aaron had died, he would have been told. There again, if he was still alive, he wanted to know.

"Nothing yet." Emily said softly. She was only too aware that Dave and Aaron went back many years, and both men being loners, probably lonely too, they were the closest each had to a real friend. "I'll call the hospital."

"When you've done that, come and help me with this, Emily." Dave said. He looked down at his hands. Aaron's blood had dried on his hands, and was cracking on the bends on his fingers. The front of his clothes was stiff with His blood. "I'll get myself cleaned up first. If I'm not back, just wait in my office.

He went off to the men's room to wash his hands. He filled a basin and plunged his hands in, and watched the blood gently swirl through the water.

Aaron's blood...what in god's name was happening. He looked at Reid's bag on the floor. Now he was going to have to go through it for evidence. He felt tears well up again, and he blinked them back.

_I don't want to do this by myself. I need help..._

_If Aaron doesn't make it, I don't think I can stay here._

Dave went to his office and closed the blinds. He didn't want anyone to see him crying. He threw Reid's bag into the corner and sat at his desk. He thought back to Friday when he had gone to Aaron's for the evening. Poor guy had been so embarrassed about the pizza, and Dave had laughed. In the end they were both clutching their ribs, helplessly laughing, and maybe a tiny bit tipsy. Just for a second, Dave forgot the shooting, and smiled. Then as everything came flooding back, the smile turned into a masque of terrible grief. He pressed his hands onto his eyes and cried.

_Oh god, please let this be a horrible nightmare..._

There was a knock on his door and Emily came in. She sat down opposite Dave, her face damp and pale. She waited silently for Dave. When he finally regained control and looked up at her, she said,

"They are still working on him, Dave. There's an awful lot of internal damage, a severed artery, his insides ripped to shreds by the GSW to the stomach. But they haven't called TOD yet."

"I guess that's something." Dave said, picking Reid's bag up off the floor where he'd thrown it. "Let's see what is in here."

He pushed the things on his desk to one side, and tipped out Reid's bag. One thing at a time, Dave picked up an object and put it in an evidence bag. Emily wrote on the bag, and deposited it in a box.

Dave sighed shakily. "A roll of crime scene tape, an empty notebook, three pens, a purple scarf, a pack of evidence bags, and three pairs of latex gloves and a mobile phone. Give the phone to Garcia, and see if any calls were made over the weekend to or from this phone."

Each item was bagged and tagged. Then Dave picked up the rubber tube. "We will test this for DNA." Dave said. "If it has any other DNA on it apart from Reid, we may be able to find a witness to what Reid did over the weekend."

Next he picked up the used syringe, and the rest of the unused ones. "Same with these." he said, as Emily opened an evidence bag for them.

Lastly he picked up the small bottle of clear liquid. "There's no writing on this." he said. "It could be anything. There are at least three places on the lid where a dose has been drawn off." He put it in the bag that Emily was holding open. "Get the lab to find out what he's been injecting. If it's not a common drug, we might have a lead there too."

Morgan knocked on the door, and Dave called him in.

"Reid said that he can't remember past going down in the lift to his car on Friday." he said. "I'll get Garcia to check the security tapes, and I'll take a look down there and see if I can find any leads."

Dave inclined his head. "Garcia has gone to the hospital with Hotch." Dave said. "Call her back, but ask JJ to stay. We need to know...well, just ask her to stay."

"Ok." Morgan said softly. It was not so obvious on Morgan that he had been crying, but the tremor in his voice gave him away. He closed the door and went to his own desk to call the hospital.

-0-0-0-

Reid passively allowed himself to be taken down to the cells. The three from security walked one on either side, and one behind him. All three had their weapons drawn, and Reid had no doubt in his mind that they were prepared to use them. He looked straight ahead, trying to remember what had happened in Aaron's office just before...before he shot the man he loved. Shot and killed him. And there was no doubt either that he had done it.

But it was blank. He could remember his phone ringing, and Emily telling him to answer it. Then he was standing on Aaron's office, gun drawn, and Aaron lying in front of him, pouring blood. He knew he was going to cry again.

Aaron was dead. He didn't want to live.

They arrived at the cells. One was opened, and he was pushed none too gently inside. The door was slammed shut and he was alone.

He knew what he had to do.

-0-0-0-

Garcia and JJ were sitting in the relatives' waiting room. They weren't crying although both felt their cheeks were stiff with dried tears. The whole thing didn't feel real. They had waited in hospitals before, but that was after one or other of the team was hurt catching an UnSub. Not getting shot in your own office by someone you loved and trusted. When a nurse came in, they both looked up fearfully. They were both expecting the worse news, but at least while they waited, there was still some hope.

"Penelope Garcia?"

Garcia stood up. "That's me."

"There's a phone call for you from someone called Morgan.

"Ah thank you." Garcia gave JJ a relieved glance, and followed the nurse out to her desk.

"Hey Prince of Darkness. What can I do?"

"We need you back here, Baby-Girl. Reid can't remember past going down to his car on Friday. We need you to check the surveillance tapes to see if anything happened. Rossi wants JJ to stay there for now."

"I'll be right back." Garcia said. "It will feel good to be doing something."

She put down the phone, thanked the nurse, and went back to tell JJ.

It was as Morgan put down his phone that he remembered the call Reid had had just before he had gone to Hotch's office. When Garcia got back, he'd get her to check on the call; try to find out where it had come from.

He went to the lift and travelled down to the parking level. He got out his torch and shone it around the floor outside the lift. He checked for blood spatter, although Reid didn't appear to be injured, there could have been someone else here.

But no. There was nothing, no evidence of anything untoward happening there. He went over to where Reid's car was parked. Maybe there was something there. Reid's old Volvo didn't come with GPS and Reid had never bothered to get it fitted. There was nothing suspicious around the car. Morgan decided to watch the tapes first, and then come back down.

As he went back to the lift, Garcia arrived back in her car. He went and opened the door for her, and they walked over to the lift together.

"There must be something we can find." Garcia said. "Reid would never have done anything to hurt Hotch. They were so close."

Morgan leaned on the wall of the lift, eyes closed. "If I hadn't seen it, I would never have believed it, Princess." He suddenly started to cry. Garcia stopped the lift.

"It was awful." he said. "Hotch was lying there, helpless, bleeding, and Reid just pointed the gun and shot him again. I saw it, and I couldn't do a thing! I couldn't believe it...I..."

Garcia put her arms around him and hugged him. He rested his head on her, and she on him, and they held each other. Then she pulled back and took his face in her hands.

"We will solve this, Derek." she said. "For Hotch, we will find out who really did this." She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, and started the lift again.

"There's something else, apart from the tapes." Morgan said. "It might be nothing, but just before the shooting, Reid had a phone call. When he got up, he sent his chair flying, and he said something like he had to tell Hotchner something." He frowned at the memory. "I should have known something was wrong. No-one calls him Hotchner. It's always Hotch, sometimes Aaron, from Dave or Spencer."

"But never Hotchner." Garcia finished. "I'll look into it."

The lift doors opened and deposited them on the walkway. Together they went to Garcia's bunker and set to work.

-0-0-0-

His hands weren't working properly. He was shaking and crying, and he was devastated. Living the rest of his life without Aaron was terrible enough. But living it in the knowledge that he had killed him was too much to bear.

Standing on the bench in the cell, he could see out of the small high window. The sky was silvery blue with pinkish mauve streaks. It was beautiful and he had no right to see it.

He had torn the sheet into strips and wound them together making a strong rope. He threw one end over the pipe which fed the toilet in the corner. He slipped his belt off his cords and put the end through the buckle, making a loop. Then he attached the buckle to the sheet.

He pulled the loop over his head, and tightened it against his neck, and stepped off the bench into oblivion.


	6. This World Was Never Meant For One

Chapter 6  
This World Was Never Meant For One As Beautiful As you

_**Friedrich Nietzsche**__** once said, "**__**Every man is a creative cause of what happens, a primum mobile with an original movement."**__**  
**_

Emily stood quietly leaning against the wall in the lab. Her eyes were dry and sore, and she was exhausted. She was amazed how grief and crying had drained the life out of her. The scene played over and over like film footage that she wanted to forget. It was only now starting to sink in what had happened. Hotch was fighting a loosing battle for his life because one of the team had shot him in cold blood.

_Reid would never hurt Hotch..._

The techs were looking at the liquid in the bottle from Reid's messenger bag, and testing the tube and syringes for DNA and prints other than Spencer's. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was so tired she could just lie down here in the lab and sleep. But even awake with her eyes closed, what she had seen in Hotch's office played out in front of her.

She had to do something to occupy her mind. She pushed off the wall and went across to the tech that had the bottle.

"Anything?"

"I'm...uh...running it again. I think I may have made an error the first and second times." She looked up at Emily, a puzzled frown on her face. "I'm sure I didn't though."

"What do you think it is?" asked Emily. "What results did you get? Is it something rare?"

"Actually, no. It's very common, though why anyone would want to inject it is beyond me." She held out the analysis sheet for Emily to see.

"Saline?" Emily took the sheet off her, thinking she had read it wrong. "Are you sure?"

"That's why I'm running it again. It doesn't make sense."

Emily thought for a moment. "Actually, Chris, it could make sense. May I take this?" she asked, indicating the print-out.

"Sure. I'll have another identical one running off in a minute."

Emily thanked her and crossed to the fingerprint lab. She could see the syringes in the Super Glue cabinet. The tech was brushing the tube with fingerprint dust.

"Oh, hi." he said, a brief smile at Emily as she approached. "I've swabbed for DNA. There are some prints here, but I haven't lifted them yet." He pointed out the prints. "There was a lot of DNA residue on the ends, possible saliva."

"That sounds right." Emily said. "Could you page me when you have anything?"

"Sure." He bent his head again to his work. Emily left the lab, looking at the 'unknown drug' analysis. This was becoming curiouser and curiouer.

-0-0-0-

"Saline?" Dave frowned at the results in front of him. "Are they sure?"

"Chris was puzzled too, so ran the test twice. She was actually running it for the third time when I got there."

"So why in gods name would he be shooting up saline?" Dave pushed his fingers through his hair. "Do you want to go down and ask him?"

Dave handed her the sheet, and she got up and left his office. Going down in the lift she pondered on the thought that had popped into her mind in the lab. Reid had either been injecting saline knowingly, or he thought it was something else, or someone else had injected him to make him think that he was off the wagon. But why would anyone do that? Why not give him the real thing?

After she had spoken to Reid, she'd go and talk to Dave and Morgan.

As the lift doors opened, she saw people rushing past in the direction of the cells. She suddenly felt very scared. She knew that Reid had pointed the gun at himself after he shot Hotch the third time, and that Morgan had only just prevented a second tragedy. Reid was on suicide watch. But not all custody officers took that seriously.

With her heart in her mouth, she ran along with them.

-0-0-0-

"This makes no sense." Garcia said, pressing her lips together in frustration. "I'm going to run it again."

Morgan peered over her shoulder and looked at the meaningless gibberish on the screen. "What is it, Baby Girl?"

"Well, there were three calls made from Reid's mobile over the weekend, all to the same number, right?"

" Yes, that's right. The guy's a dealer. Reid was ordering whatever he's injecting himself with."

"Well, that's just it. Three calls were made, and the calls were answered. But then the connection was cut."

"Who cut the connection?"

"Reid did, and straight away. He didn't have time to say hello, let alone arrange a buy. Almost as if he had changed his mind."

Morgan frowned. "Let's go and tell Rossi."

"You go. I still need to track down the call Reid had just before he...you know." She blinked back tears. These people she worked with were her family, her life. In just a few hours, everything was falling apart around her

"Ok, Princess." Morgan said gently, squeezing her shoulder with affection. He left Garcia to track the call, and quickly crossed to Dave's office.

-0-0-0-

As Emily ran along behind them, she became more and more agitated. There were some people standing outside Reid's cell. The door was open. Everyone was shouting.

Emily heard, "Cut him down, quickly! I can't hold him for much longer!"

_Oh no! Spencer, what have you done?_

She pushed through the people at the door. A woman was standing on the bench, with her arms around Reid's waist, holding his weight. A man was reaching up, trying to release the belt that was cutting into his neck. One of the bystanders passed a knife to the man who quickly cut through the sheet, and he and the woman lowered Reid's limp body to the floor. The man pulled the belt from Reid's neck, and checked for a pulse. Emily watched, desperate to do something, but not wanting to get in the way.

She heard someone behind her. "Should have left him hanging there. The bastard killed his boss; shot him down in cold blood."

She turned angrily to face the group. "Who are you to judge him!" she yelled, all the tension of the last day flooding through her. "Get your damned facts straight before you appoint yourself judge and jury."

She knew she was shaking with rage. If she knew who had spoken, she might have hit them. As it was, the group quickly began to disperse.

She turned back to the three people in the cell. Reid was on his back, his eyes open and staring. His arms were flung out by his side; a livid circle was visible around his neck. Emily could see the imprint of the buckle under his ear. She went and knelt by his head, and took his hand in hers.

"Oh Spencer! Why did you do that?" She stroked his long fringe off his face. "We are just starting to get somewhere."

The man was compressing Reid's chest

"Were you in time?" Emily asked.

The guy looked up at Emily. "Friend of yours?"

"We work together...yeah. He's a friend."

"I don't know if we were in time. He has a pulse, but I don't know how long he was hanging for." He glanced away from Reid's body for a moment and felt his neck. "I think he's got a pulse now. Trouble is there could be brain damage. There often is after a hanging. We won't know until he's awake."

Emily looked down at his sweet passive face. "Be ok, Reid. I know this is not your fault; we are going to find out what happened. Please be oh. Just get better."

_We can't loose you as well, Spence. We've had our differences, but that's in the past. Just be ok..._

The medics arrived to take him to the hospital. They lifted him onto the stretcher, and cuffed his wrists to the bar at the side.

"Do you have to do that?" Emily said. "He's not exactly going to run off, now is he?"

"Procedure, Miss. We have to do this on murder suspects. And from what we've heard, he's more than a suspect. Caught red handed this one was."

Emily didn't say anything, just watched as for the second time that day, one of her closest friends was rushed away to hospital.

-0-0-0-

Dave was engrossed in the notes he had made since the shooting. His door was open, an unspoken invitation for members of the team to enter without knocking.

"Dave, I think we might have something!" Morgan said as he entered Dave's office.

Rossi's head snapped up. "What have you found?"

"Those calls from Reid's..."

Dave's phone rang. "Excuse me." he said, picking it up. "Rossi."

He listened for a few moments, then he said thank you, and put the phone down. He looked upset.

"That was the hospital." he said.

Morgan sat down. "It's not good, is it?"


	7. Depletion

Chapter 7  
Depletion

_**W K Clifford said, **__**"It is wrong always, everywhere and for everyone to believe anything upon insufficient evidence."**_

As the lift doors closed on Reid, Emily called up to Rossi and told him what had happened.

"Conference room, five minutes!" he said."Garcia too."

She leaned against the wall, her arms straight, and her head down. Her world was falling apart around her, and there was nothing she could do. Her mind was good at compartmentalising; it's what made her good at her job. But this was riding roughshod over the barriers, trampling them down, and she was finding it harder to organise her thoughts. She stopped the lift on the way up, and took some deep breaths, attempting to stop the shaking, and think rationally about what was happening. When the lift arrived at her floor, she felt better. On the way to the conference room, she called into the bunker, and she and Garcia went together to meet JJ, Morgan and Rossi.

Hotch and Reid were conspicuous by their absence. At the sight of the empty seats, Emily felt her barriers crumbling along with her resolve. Rossi and Morgan came in, followed by JJ. All avoided sitting in the seats normally occupied by their missing colleagues, whether by deference, or habit, she didn't know.

"I've just had a call from the hospital." Dave said.

The others turned to him, not sure if they wanted to hear the news. "I am sorry, it's bad news, but it could have been a lot worse." Dave sat down and indicated that the others should too. "He's pulled through the initial surgery. The bullet to the chest nicked the aorta, so there was extensive blood loss, but they are coping with that. He has peritonitis, caused by the stomach wound. Antibiotics are dealing with that. But it could turn and kill him. The stomach wound was a through and through, and passed close to the spine. His spine is damaged, and he has no feeling below the waist." Dave's voice was breaking. He wished he wasn't the one who had to do this, but without Aaron, he was automatically section head. He wished he wasn't. "This could be temporary," he continued, "but it could be permanent. "

He stopped, and rubbed his face with his hands. There was far worse. "He wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't beating, for over half an hour. It is likely that he will be brain damaged after this. We won't know until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

Dave felt awful having to deliver the news. Now he had more.

"Reid just tried to hang himself." he said. "He was found still alive, and he is in hospital under guard."

They sat and stared in stunned silence. They were prepared for Aaron to die. This was worse. Garcia felt herself crying. She had until recently been over awed by Hotch. Since his family left him, though, he had shown a vulnerably side that had endeared him to her.

Emily reached under the table and took JJ's hand. Any sort of contact was a thread of comfort. Oh god. Poor Hotch, she thought. She prayed silently to a god she had denied, hoping that, if he existed, he would listen.

And now Reid...

"Ok, so let's find the son of a bitch that did this." Dave said, turning over to a clean sheet of A2 on the easel. "We'll go round, let's see what we have. Morgan."

Morgan blinked, and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to get a grip, for their sakes. "Just before the shooting, Reid answered a call on his desk phone. He reacted strangely to it, calling Hotch Hotchner. I've had Garcia follow up the lead; it's possible that the call was taped. A lot of incoming calls are. The other thing, I think Reid was going to shoot himself just after..." Morgan paused here; his breathing was all wrong, and he fought to regain control. "And now the attempted hanging. I don't think he will rest until he has succeeded."

"Like accomplishing a mission." Emily said. Morgan nodded.

"So what have you found, Garcia?" Dave said.

"The call came from a downtown call box. And it was taped." she said. She picked up the remote from the table, and pointed it at the screen at one end of the room.

The voice filled the room.

"_Doctor Spencer Reid. You need to tell Hotchner something."_

Garcia turned to the remnants of her team. "That's it."

"That's what Reid said. 'I need to tell Hotchner something.'"

"Trigger words." Dave said. "That is why he's missing a weekend. He was being brainwashed."

"Oh my god..." breathed Garcia.

"So what was the point of the saline?" Morgan said. "I can't see where that fits in."

"I have an idea about that." Emily said. "If he thought that his weekend was spent in a doped up stupor, he would have kept quiet about it. He wouldn't have wanted anyone to know, so no-one would have suspected anything was wrong."

"Except we all noticed something, and yet did nothing about it." Morgan said.

"What about the calls from Reid's mobile, Garcia?" Dave said, furiously writing on the board.

"That seemed odd at first." she said, "But now I think it's easily explainable. The calls were less than a second long each time. The calls were answered, but it seems that nothing was spoken. The connection was cut at Reid's end"

"More manufactured evidence against him." JJ said.

"But the thing I can't understand is why?" Emily said. "Why go to all this trouble to get rid of Reid and Hotch. The UnSub could have mugged them on the street, a drive by, sniper bullet, a thousand ways. Why like this?"

"That's something we have to work on. Get that, and we'll have him." Rossi said. "What about the security footage from Friday?"

"I have it here, but I haven't seen it yet." she said. "It's ready to show."

"Let's see it."

Garcia pointed the remote, and the screen woke up in a familiar grainy image. "I will be able to get it clearer than this." she said, and pressed 'play'.

The lift doors were centre screen, and for a minute or so, nothing happened. Then a man approached the door and stood beside it in the shadows. For about a tenth of a second, his face was visible, but he knew where the cameras were.

"Will you be able to get his face?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, and it will be a better image than the one you are seeing here." Garcia said.

They continued watching, and the lift doors opened. Reid was alone in the lift. He stepped out onto the concourse with his head down, looking for something in his bag. The man in the shadows stepped forwards, and hit the back of Reid's head with a club of some kind. It looked like a base ball bat. Reid fell forwards onto the ground. Another man appeared on the screen and they lifted Reid and took him off camera.

Garcia pointed the remote again. "This is the camera that covers Reid's car." she said, and another picture filled the screen. They watched as Reid was carried to a car parked next to his, and dumped in the boot. Then one UnSub got in the car, and the other got in Reid's, and they both drove away.

When the replay had finished, Rossi said, "Get what you can, Garcia."

"I will." she said, and quickly left the room.

"Morgan," he said after Garcia had left. "I would like you to come with me to the Tun pub. We can take a look around the car park, and show Reid's picture inside. Emily and JJ, check out Reid's car for prints and anything else the UnSub left behind. He drove the car. There has to be some evidence left behind. You might need the CSI's"

Rossi stood up. The briefing was over. The four of them left the conference room and headed for the lift.

-0-0-0-

"We'll take my car." Dave said. It was not a question nor was it a polite request. Rossi had been in the car with Morgan driving before.

_Morgan's driving; Aaron's cooking._

Rossi allowed himself a trace of a smile.

As they drove off, two men watched from behind an SUV. "Well that's a bonus!" one said.

"Both together!" grinned the other.

-0-0-0-

The pub was on the other side of town. Rossi headed out of town to drive round, and avoid any hold ups.

"Hey, Dave. You're going a little fast!" Morgan grinned. "And you don't like my driving!" He was about to laugh, when he noticed the determined concentration on Dave's face. "Dave, what's wrong?"

"No brakes." he said grimly. "Hold on."

Dave swerved and veered across the road. Fortunately, there was little traffic on the roads in this part of town.

Dave's hands were white on the wheel as the car sped up down a hill. Dave fought with the wheel to keep the car on the road, as it took the bend at the bottom of the hill. Morgan gasped and hung onto his seat as the car swung over the road to miss an oncoming vehicle. That was when Dave lost control. The car shot across the road and over a grass verge.

"Hang on Derek!" he yelled over the sound of the engine.

"Dave!" Morgan shouted, as Dave fast approached a thicket of trees.

To Dave, the next ten seconds stretched on for minutes, He desperately turned the wheel, but the car kept moving forwards and hit a tree. The tree folded back across the roof of the car, bending the roof down onto him. His seat belt didn't hold him, and he was pressed against the steering wheel; the last thing that passed through his mind was wondering why the airbags hadn't deployed. Morgan yelped as his seat belt snapped, and he put his hands in front of him as he was hurled through the windscreen onto the bonnet. Dave's head was against the horn and that was the only sound apart from a rhythmic dripping of blood onto the woodland earth.


	8. Cutting Down, Cutting Out

Chapter 8  
Cutting Down, Cutting Out

"_**Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity." - Sean O'Casey**_

Emily and JJ stood by and watched the CSI team process Reid's car. JJ was on the phone to the hospital where Hotch, and now Reid, were fighting for their lives.

"There is no change in Mr. Hotchner's condition. I am sorry. And the other guy who is filling my ward with cops, well he is still in a coma. He's getting oxygen through a ventilator, but there's no change since he came in. And when are you going to remove the restraints?" She sounded annoyed.

"I am sorry, Ma'am, but that is nothing to do with us.'" JJ said. "That's normal procedure in these types of cases." JJ sighed. This was awful. "Thank you for the information."

"Well aren't you going to ask about the other one? To save you the time, no change there either."

"Other one?" JJ frowned at the handset. "What other one?"

"The woman. Burn victim. Came in three days ago."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't know about a woman."

"Well, she's one of your lot...or used to be. I'll get the file, one moment."

JJ called Emily over. "Em, here a minute. Something odd is...Oh hello."

"Yes, a Miss Elle Greenway. Eighty percent burns. Dragged out of a house fire...hello?"

JJ had cut the connection. "Em, we have a development. A serious one. Can you get Dave on the phone? I need to talk to Garcia."

She left Emily speed dialling Rossi as she ran to the lift.

-0-0-0-

"Pen, do you have a current address on Elle?"

Garcia looked up in surprise. "Elle as in Elle Greenway?" JJ nodded. "No but I can find it."

Garcia quickly brought up a new page on her screen. "It's...oh my lord!"

"What is it, Pen? What have you got?"

"I have the address, Jay. But there was a house fire on Friday night." She turned to JJ wide eyed."The house was destroyed. A woman was dragged out of the flames." She turned her chair to face JJ. "Was that Elle?"

"Oh no, I think it was. It's true then. I just didn't want to believe it." JJ had her hand over her mouth. "Is there an investigation?"

Garcia turned back."No. Arson Investigators weren't brought in. The fire officer on scene said the fire started in the bedroom while she was sleeping. Foul play not suspected."

"Anything else?" JJ leaned over Garcia's shoulder to get a closer look, as if that could change what was happening. Emily rushed into the room.

"I can't get Morgan or Dave on their phones, and they aren't at the Tun yet." she said. What's the 'development'?"

JJ told her.

"We need to find Dave and Morgan." Emily said. "And I think we need to be careful."

-0-0-0-

Morgan groaned softly as he tried to remember where he was. He could hear a car horn sounding. At first he thought it was along way off, but as his senses began to work properly again, he realised it was right there next to him. His arms were straight out in front of him, and he drew them back to try to get up and figure out where he was. The pain in his hands brought everything back.

Dave had hit a tree – no brakes...how the hell had he got out here?

Very carefully he turned onto his back, and sat up. He realised that he had gone through the windscreen, and he gingerly touched his face. He could see out of both eyes, which was good,but he thought he had several cuts to his face. He looked down at his hands. They had taken most of the damage. His left wrist was very painful, and he could see it was swelling already.

Then he looked up at the car.

The roof was almost squashed down to the same level as the bonnet.

"Dave!" Morgan shouted. He rolled off the bonnet of the car, and when his left foot took his weight, he almost screamed. He had broken his ankles before, when he was on SWAT, so he knew what that felt like, but looking at the car; he could see he got off lightly. He hobbled painfully round to the driver's side, and peered through the gap where the door had bent outwards. Dave was trapped between the roof and the steering wheel. His hands were still gripping the wheel, and it looked as if his fingers were crushed. His head was to one side, and Morgan couldn't see his face, but blood was dripping steadily from his right ear. Morgan could see no more of Dave's body. He reached through the gap and tried to find a pulse on Dave's neck, but it wasn't possible from this angle.

Dave's phone was ringing, but again, Morgan had no way of getting to it. He took out his own phone, and called 911.

"Dave!"He knew he needed to get Dave talking. If he was conscious, he needed to keep him awake."Dave, if you can hear me, show me."

He reached through the gap to touch him, just to let him know he was there. The blood was running faster now, and it scared Morgan.

"Dave, are you awake?" Morgan saw one of Dave's fingers move slightly. Morgan sighed with relief.

"The emergency services are coming. We'll get you out of there."

Dave groaned softly. He tried to move his head, but there wasn't enough room.

"Don't move. Just keep still."

Morgan was really scared. Hotch, Reid, now Dave, and nearly him too. He reached through again and rested his hand gently on Dave's arm. "You'll be fine. Just stay still.

Then he called Prentiss.

-0-0-0-

"Where are you?" she yelled as soon as she answered the phone. "There's been a development. You need to get back ..."

"Emily, wait! Listen! Our car was sabotaged. I was thrown clear, but Dave's trapped. I'm waiting for the medics."

"Oh god...where are you?"

"Emily, you stay there. Now what is the development?"

"It's Elle. She's been badly hurt in a house fire. It doesn't look good."

"Elle? But she's not been with us for more than two years!"

Emily gripped the phone hard. "It's happening too fast. We need to create a profile, or there won't be anyone left! We need to get together and think this through."

"As soon as I've seen Dave safe, I'll get back there. See what you can come up with, and check on Hotch and Reid."

"We called earlier. There's no change." she said. "I'll get JJ and Garcia, and we'll make a start. Let me know about Rossi as soon as you can, won't you?"

"Sure will."

Emily closed her phone, and turned to JJ and Garcia.

"Morgan and Dave have had an accident." Emily said. "Morgan seems to be ok, but Rossi's trapped in the car. We've got to find this UnSub."

Emily sat down at her desk, and the other two sat down with her. "Ok, what have we got?"

"The UnSub went to a lot of trouble over this, brainwashing Reid...that took a lot of skill." said Garcia

"Why do that, and just sabotage the car?" JJ frowned. "That's so simple."

"It tells us two things." said Emily. "One, the UnSub is very clever. Two, He'll do anything to get his way. I imagine taking Reid was to let us know he's no ordinary killer, but someone to be respected."

"And why Elle?" Garcia asked. "She doesn't even work here any more."

"It could be connected to a case from when she was here." said Emily, "But that doesn't explain Rossi."

"He works here now though, or maybe they were after Morgan." said JJ. "But it was Rossi's car, so it could be just the BAU he's after."

"If it's connected to an old case, then Gideon is in danger too."

"Well," Garcia said. "If I can't find him, no-body can."

"Ok, we can assume Gideon is safe then. Let's go over the cases Elle worked on." Emily said. "I wasn't here, so it's better if you, JJ and Garcia do that." Emily picked up the phone. "I'm going to call the hospital."

-0-0-0-

Morgan refused any help from the medics. He wanted to see Dave out of the car and safe first. He hovered around like a spare part while the fire crew moved the tree and cut the roof off the car. In the few minutes before the emergency services had arrived, Morgan had stopped getting any response from Dave, and until the medics could get in the car to him, they couldn't tell him if he was ok or not. They had managed to tape a dressing over his ear to stop the bleeding temporarily, but that was all they could do.

There was a crash as the car roof was thrown to one side. He heard a loud cry from Dave as the pressure was released. One of the medics climbed into the passenger's seat and held his head still. Dave opened his eyes and looked at her.

"It's ok, Dave. We're going to get you out of here."

"Can't feel ...legs." he whispered. "Neck hurts."

"Don't worry about that, now. Shock often does that. It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

Dave blinked slowly. Very carefully, the medic loosened his hands from the wheel, although she left them holding it loosely. She kept her hand on his.

Dave tried to lift his head.

"Don't move, Sweetheart. Just keep as still as you can." She nodded to the fire crew. "They're going to cut you out now. It might hurt a bit when the pressure comes off, but I'm going to give you some morphine to kill the pain."

"Derek? ...Is Derek ok?"

Dave felt profound relief as the pain killer got to work.

"He's fine, Dave. He's got a few cuts, and a hurt ankle, but nothing to worry about." She smiled. "So tell me, what part of Italy do you come from?"

Morgan wanted to pace and hit a few trees, but walking was not on the agenda. So he sat and watched as the car was cut away from around Dave.

He needed to think. Like Emily said, this was all happening too quickly. He called her and told her the latest news on Rossi, and to ask if she'd called the hospital.

"Reid's awake, and he's been given something to calm him down." she told him. "He is very agitated. Hotch is off the ventilator and is breathing on his own. But he hasn't woken up yet, and he's showing no response to stimuli below the waist." Emily paused. "His pupils are reactive, and the doctors say that's a good sign." Emily thought she would cry again. While she was working, it was almost like any other case – she could keep her feelings in check. But this was so personal. So very close to her heart. "Morgan, Elle didn't make it."

"Emily, I'm going to get this foot sorted, and I'm getting back to you." Morgan said. "You, JJ and Pen are not to leave the BAU under any circumstances. Ok?"

"I hear you, Morgan. We've work to do here for now."

"Good, I'm getting the car towed back to the crime lab." Morgan said. "Please would you warn them it's coming, and that it's priority."

"Will do. Keep me posted, won't you."

"I will."

Morgan cut the connection. They were almost ready to free Dave from the car. He noticed that he wasn't moving.

"Is he alright?" he asked the medic who was sitting with him. "He's not moving now, and he was earlier."

"He's fine. He's had some morphine. He won't be feeling anything."

Morgan carefully slid down the back of the car where he'd been leaning. He put his head in his hands and tried to get his thoughts in order. He was going to have to lead what was left of the team. He had to pull himself together.


	9. Guilt

Chapter 9  
Guilt

"_**Guilt is the very nerve of sorrow" - Horace Bushnell**_

Spencer was feeling very ill. He had a blinding headache, and he wanted to curl up on his side, wrap his arms around himself and die, but he was cuffed to the bed, and had to lie on his back.

But even more, he wanted to go and see Aaron. He knew that Aaron was still alive, and that he was only a few doors away from him, and that he was comatose, and probably crippled. He had heard the nurses talking. Before he died, he needed to go and tell him he was sorry.

'Sorry.'...such an inadequate word. There was no word to describe how he felt. It was like an aching in his bones. It hurt more than any injury.

Angrily he pulled at the cuffs, and the cop who was watching him raised his head from the book he was reading. He hadn't spoken a word to him but he could see disbelief and loathing in his eyes. Spencer wanted to tell him that he hadn't done what he was accused of, that he actually loved Aaron, and owed him his life, but when he tried to speak he was told to be quiet and save it for the judge.

He wasn't allowed visitors or telephone messages. All he could do was lie here and stare at the ceiling.

_Why did you cut me down? Why didn't you leave me to hang? _

Crying hurt his throat. He guessed that it was bruised from the belt, but he hadn't been able to see it or touch it. He felt a tear run down the side of his face and into his hair. He wanted to brush it away, but he couldn't. He lay still and sobbed painfully, earning a disdainful look from his guard.

_I am so sorry, Aaron. I will come and tell you as soon as I can..._

-0-0-0-

Dave was out of the car and strapped onto a spinal board, with his head in a restraint. He had passed out when they finally got him out of the wreckage, and the leg injuries became evident. The sudden pain on the release of the pressure shot through him, and for a second, over-rode the morphine. He had raised his arms and cried out softly and fainted. The sound had alerted Morgan, who stood up and watched as they carried him to the road and into the waiting ambulance.

"Ok, it's your turn now." a voice behind him said. Morgan turned to the medic.

"Is he going to be ok?"

"He has some bad crush injuries to his legs and hands, but the orthopaedic surgeon at the Potomac is one of the top in the country." she said gently, her hand on Morgan's arm. "Now let me see where you've been hurt."

"Just get Dave out of here." he said. "I have to supervise the removal of the car to the crime lab. I'll come in later."

"You need to be checked out." she said. "If that ankle and wrist is broken, it needs to be set. And those cuts need attention."

"Can you do the cuts in the ambulance? I really cannot leave the scene until the car has been taken."

She sighed. "I guess so." She put out her hand, and Morgan took it, and together they hobbled to the ambulance. The one containing Rossi had already sped off, lights flashing, siren sounding. Morgan sat in the second ambulance, and the medic carefully washed and disinfected the cuts on his face.

"These should heal with the minimum of scarring." she said. "As long as they don't become infected. Make sure you keep them clean."

She used butterfly clips on his face, and Morgan held out his hands while she did the same there. "You will probably get scarring on your hands. I don't think there is any glass in the wounds, but when you come in to have your wrist and ankle checked, remind them to check your hands for glass."

"Ok." Morgan said. He just wanted to be out of there. There was too much to do. "Are there any crutches that I can borrow until then?"

When she had stitched up Morgan's hands, and swathed them in bandages, she got a set of crutches from under the bench he was sitting on.

"You won't find them easy to use, Derek, not with bandaged hands and a possible broken wrist."

"I'll manage." he said, standing up. He made an effort not to wince as he leaned on the crutches. "It doesn't hurt."

She rolled her eyes at him and grinned. "Let me help you out of the ambulance then."

AS the ambulance pulled away, the CSU flat bed arrived. Morgan watched as they wrapped the wreck in plastic, and cranked it onto the truck.

"This is priority." he said. "One of our agents was seriously hurt, and we suspect sabotage."

"We have already been told." the supervisor said. "We do know our job."

"Well it doesn't hurt to make sure." he said, getting annoyed.

The CSI turned his back on Morgan and walked away. Morgan felt a shot of pain up his arm as he clenched his fists angrily. He had intended to get a lift back with them. He got out his mobile, and called a taxi.

He stood at the road side and waited for his ride. He felt extremely vulnerable all of a sudden, standing there alone, unable to run and in pain. If someone really was trying to take out the BAU, he was a sitting duck here. He unclipped his gun and held it in his hand. It was not easy to hold it, but he felt a little less defenceless. When the taxi arrived, he threw his crutches in the back, and slid in behind the driver. He felt a little paranoid, still holding his gun, but he suddenly didn't trust anyone. He got out his phone and called Prentiss.

"We think the UnSub could be someone from a case that the BAU dealt with before I started," Emily said, "When Greenway was still on the team. JJ and Garcia are getting the details together of likely UnSubs who fit the profile."

"It might be worth while checking out surviving family members too." Morgan said. "I know it is a lot of cases. There will be hundreds of suspects. I'm on my way back in now. We can go through them together."

"How's Dave?" Emily asked. "Is he ok?"

"He's on his way to the hospital. I think after this they should open a BAU wing." Morgan's attempt at humour sounded flat, even to his ears. "He has leg injuries, and his hands are crushed. What about Hotch and Reid?"

"I haven't called again." Emily said. "If we weren't so depleted, I'd go down there and sit with them."

Morgan leaned back and closed his eyes. He understood exactly. It hurt to see Dave get taken off in the ambulance, and him not go with him. But they had to get this UnSub off the streets.

"I'm almost with you now. See you in five." He cut the connection.

-0-0-0-

"Please," Reid said. "I need to go and see Hotch."

"You what? You are joking!" the guard said mockingly. "You want to be allowed to visit the man whom you tried to kill? Why on earth would I let you do that?"

"Take me in a wheel chair. You can cuff me to it, you will have a gun. I won't be able to hurt him again. Please. I really need to see him." Spencer knew he was begging, but he didn't care. He needed to do this. "Please. It's not just for me, it's for him too."

"Wait a minute." the cop said, and he got up and left.

Reid waited. Not that there was any alternative. When the cop came back he was with a colleague.

"I have just checked, and since Mr Hotchner is in a coma, the doctor has said it will be ok, but of course, you will not be left alone with him."

A chair was wheeled next to Reid's bed, and with one cop pointing his gun at him, the other helped him into the wheel chair and cuffed his wrists to it. Spencer looked at the cuffs in dismay. He wanted to touch Aaron, show him that he would never hurt him again. But he would not be allowed to touch him. He blinked away tears of distress as he was wheeled out into the corridor, and along the wide passage to Aaron's room. Spencer's stomach clenched when he saw his friend lying there, severely hurt because of what he had done to him. He was wheeled close to where Aaron was lying, eyes closed, surrounded by machines monitoring his heart and vital signs. He was no longer on a ventilator, but the tube was still taped to his mouth. His lips were open and he looked fragile and weak. His skin was white, and his pallor was accentuated by the dark hair that fell across his forehead. Drips fed both wrists, and his hands and forearms were strapped onto boards to keep them rigid. He was covered in a sheet up to his hips, and Spencer could see the horrible injuries he has caused. He felt sick.

He watched in silence for a minute or two, watching the movement of his chest rise and fall. He so wanted to reach out to him. He remembered how Aaron had raised him to his feet after they found him when he had been kidnapped by Henkel, how Aaron had unashamedly held him. Now Reid wanted to hold Aaron.

"Aaron, I don't know if you are able to hear me. It's Spencer. I want to say I'm so very sorry."

It was then that Aaron Hotchner flat lined.


	10. UnSub

Chapter 10  
UnSubs

"_**The purpose of thinking is not to be right but to be effective" - Edward De Bono **_

Morgan, Emily, JJ and Garcia sat at one end of the round table, with all the case files that Elle worked on with them spread out in front of them.

"Ok," Morgan said, "We can take the cases chronologically, and just profile the UnSubs to start with. First, we'll find the ones where the UnSub survived. JJ, what was Elle's first case with us?"

"That was the Seattle case, UnSub Tim Vogel. Gideon killed him." JJ said, putting the file to one side.

"Then there was the college kid with the number 3 compulsion." Garcia said, flicking through the file. "I'll put that with Vogel."

Emily picked up a file and handed it to Morgan. "The Florida Bomb Forger – Walker. Blew himself up." he said. "With Vogel."

"Franklyn Graney. The Tommy Killer." said JJ. "He's serving life in a high security facility."

"Put it in the possible pile." said Morgan. He sighed, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, although it was cool in the conference room. "Who's next?"

-0-0-0-

"No! No! Let me stay!" Reid cried as he was quickly wheeled away from Hotch's bed. He was verging on hysteria as doctors rushed into the room with the crash cart. "Oh please, for god's sake let me stay!"

Ignoring him, the cop wheeled him out of the room and back along the passage. Reid struggled fruitlessly against the restraints, pulling at them until his wrists bled. He was screaming to be allowed back in to see Aaron. The second cop stuck his gun roughly into his temple.

"Shut the hell up!" he shouted at Reid.

Reid looked at him, eyes wide and frightened. "Please let m-me stay." he sobbed. "I c-can't stand this."

"It was probably the sound of your voice that killed him." he said nastily. "You should be glad – a few words from you succeeded where three bullets failed."

"Oh god..." Spencer put his head down as low as he could and drew his knees up. "I'm s-so sorry, Aaron...Oh I'm so s-sorry."

As they pushed his chair through into his room, Spencer was broken with grief. The cops had to lift him back onto his bed, as he made no attempt to move. They cuffed him back onto the bars along the side of the bed and left him alone enwrapped in his misery.

The cops went back to Hotch's room, and watched the paddles send current through Aaron's chest. The man arched his back and collapsed back down, the machine continued tracing out a green line on the 'scope.

"Charging three hundred...clear..."

Again Aaron's weakened body lifted from the bed and dropped down again as the current failed to stimulate his heart.

"I think we should call." the doctor said. "Are we all agreed?"

"If this man dies," one of the others in the room said, "The charge against Reid moves from attempted murder to first degree murder. Please think about that before you call TOD."

"Ok, we try again." he said. " Adrenalin!"

He took the hypodermic from the nurse and plunged it into Aaron's chest, emptying the syringe. "Charge three hundred."

"Charging three hundred."

"Clear."

After the charge passed through Aaron's body again, the room fell silent except for the continuous sound of the monitor.

"Come on, Hotchner!" someone whispered.

As everyone in the room held their breaths, the flat line jumped, and Aaron's heart beat started again.

"Well, he made it this time." the doctor said. He turned to the cops. "I think we'll keep that guy away from him. We can't know for certain, but it was possibly the sound of his voice that triggered the flat line."

"We'll keep him out of here." The cops turned and went back to Reid. He was lying on the bed, whimpering with grief. When the cops went into the room, Reid turned his face towards them. He wanted to ask but he was afraid to.

"You're ok for now. They got him back this time."

Spencer closed his eyes against the tears and wondered if their lives could ever recover from this.

-0-0-0-

"Does anyone want a drink before we look at the next one?" JJ asked. The other three nodded, and JJ went out into the bullpen to get coffee. Morgan leaned back and rubbed his eyes. He had always wanted Unit Chief, but not like this. He wanted Hotch back in the driving seat.

This was not the time to be tired. He looked at Garcia and Prentiss. Emily was pale with dark rings around her eyes, Garcia's hair needed attention. They were all tired, but lives depended on their being alert. When JJ returned with the coffee, he hugged the mug in his hands and felt the warmth through the bandages.

"Ahh caffeine." he sighed. "Ok, so who's next?"

"Vincent Shyer – had an obsession with the Davenport twins." JJ said.

"Ahh now that a definite possible. He was a field agent with the New York Field Office." Morgan grimaced at the memory. "He tazered me!"

"If I remember rightly, Elle played a big part in the arrest." Garcia said.

"She did. Shyer said she was no threat, then it was she who arrested him."

"Where is he now?" Emily asked.

"He was sent to a psychiatric hospital." Morgan said. "Garcia, go and see if you can find out where he is now."

"Sure, Angel Fish." She got up and left the room. It felt good to be back in front of her computer again. This is what she could do. She always felt out of her depth when she sat with the team. Quickly she brought up the information that she needed.

She leaned across and picked up the phone without taking her eyes off the screen.

"Hey, Angel. I think you need to see this for yourself!"

-0-0-0-

Rossi slowly became aware of himself again. He could feel throbbing pains in his legs and hands, and deep in his ear there was a throbbing in time with his beating heart. He carefully opened his eyes and attempted to turn his head. It looked like a hospital room; pale green walls and white ceiling. He lifted his hands up in front of his face.

Both hands were heavily bandaged. He tried to call out to someone to come and tell him what had happened. The sound that emanated from his throat didn't sound like his voice. His tongue was sticky and his mouth was dry. Slowly he turned his head to the right, and there was a call button on the table by his bed. Clumsily he reached out his hand and pressed the red switch, and then he lay back, exhausted.

When the nurse came in he attempted a smile.

"Drink," he croaked. "Please."

"Ah welcome back, Mr. Rossi. I'll just get you some water."

She poured a little water into a beaker, and added a straw. "Take it slowly, David. It could make you sick if you drink too much."

Dave drank a little, and found he could speak a little easier.

"What happened?" he asked. "How did I get here?"

"You were in a car accident. Your car left the road and hit a tree." She put her hand on his arm. "Your legs both sustained tissue damage, but they will be fine. It will take a while though before you get full movement. Your hands were caught between the car roof and the steering wheel. They will be ok too. Some of your fingers were broken, but apart from it hurting, there's no problem."

"There was someone with me. Derek Morgan. Where is he? Is he ok?"

"He wasn't admitted. I believe he has gone back to work!"

Dave relaxed back onto the pillow. His thoughts were confused and muddled. He needed to remember what was happening. He could remember Aaron being hurt, but not how. He had a twist in the pit of his stomach, but he didn't know why.

"Please," he said, "Is it possible for me to use the phone? I really need to speak to the BAU office."

"I think you should just rest now, David. I don't think it's a good idea for you to get agitated."

"I think I'll get more agitated if you don't get me a phone." he said. He looked at her with wide Italian eyes. She smiled.

"Ok, but only for a short call!" she said. "I'll fetch the phone."

Dave waited in a whirl of chaotic and disorganised images. He prided himself on his organisational skills and he hated this mental disarray. He wanted to get back to work. When she came back with the phone, he dialled eagerly. Morgan answered on the first ring.

"We think we know who the UnSub is!"


	11. Time to Start Running

Chapter 11  
Time to Start Running!

"_**One can live with a crippled body. If the mind is crippled, then one truly dies." – Esther Mons**_

Morgan came off the phone to Dave and looked back at the screen.

"So how long has Shyer been on the run?" he asked, leaning forward, trying to extract the information from the display on the monitor.

"Six weeks." said Garcia. "It seems he had managed to convince the psychologists that he was over the twins, and he was no longer a danger. Consequently, they transferred him to low security mental health facility."

"So when he did a runner, they didn't think it was important." said JJ. "Are they actually trying to find him?"

"Not actively, not according to this." Garcia said.

Morgan gritted his teeth together. "Six weeks!"

"Long enough to set this up." Emily said. "Now all we need to do is find him."

"JJ," Morgan turned to her."Get in touch with the Davenports. Shyer has no family. He could have gone to Cheryl and Patricia, imagining that they would help him."

"I'm on it." she said and hurried back to her office.

"Help him get retribution on the BAU, who in his mind has kept them apart." Emily said, reading the case file in her hands.

JJ came back in the room. "I'm getting no answer from the Davenports." she said. "I'll call the Connecticut PD and ask them to go and check them out."

Morgan nodded in assent. "If it is him, it becomes clear why he went for Elle first. She really showed him up."

"So why Rossi? He had nothing to do with the case." said Emily.

"My guess is he's tampered with all the cars. It just happened to be Dave's we went in. He was probably after you, Morgan." said JJ. "CPD will call us as soon as they've been to the Davenport house."

"I'll get the workshop to check out all the cars." Emily said, reaching for the phone.

"Ok. Then everyone get their stuff together. I think it's likely that we will need to fly out to Connecticut."

_Ok Shyer, you'd better start to run, 'cos were closing in now!_

"I'm going to call Dave and tell him what's going on, and find out how Hotch and Reid are."

"Can't we get the charges dropped against Reid?" Emily asked. "He clearly had no part in this and we really could do with him in this."

"Yes." Morgan agreed, "We could. I'll see what I can do. But he did shoot Hotch, so it may still have to go to trial."

Morgan slowly and painfully went to his desk and called the Potomac Hospital. He asked first about Spencer and Aaron, and was horrified to be told what had happened.

"So Agent Hotchner is ok now?"

"Well, not ok, no. He is paralysed from the waist down and in a coma. But if by ok you mean alive, then yes."

"And Dr Reid. How did he take it?"

"Not good actually. He hasn't spoken since it happened. He just stares at the ceiling. It is a pity he can't have visitors. It would help him."

Morgan rubbed the back of his head. "I am going to try to get him out of there. May I speak to his doctor please?"

"I'll page him."

She left the phone for a moment, and then said, "Ok, he should answer his page. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes." Morgan said. "I would like to speak to David Rossi, unless he's sleeping."

"I'll check. A moment please."

This time he had the dubious pleasure of muzac. He'd heard more exciting stuff in the FBI lifts. It was a relief when she came back.

"Mr Rossi isn't asleep. I will transfer this call to the mobile unit, and you can speak to him. When Mr Reid's doctor gets here, I'll have him talk to you on that phone when Mr Rossi and you have finished."

A few seconds later, and he heard Dave say his name.

"Hey, Dave, it's Morgan. Just an update. We are pretty sure that the UnSub is Vincent Shyer."

"Wasn't he a fed? "

"Yes. He engineered a kidnapping case two years ago." Morgan said. "He formed an obsession with the twin daughters of a US attorney, Evan Davenport, from Connecticut. We are going to visit him shortly."

"That's as good a place to start as any. I assume from that that has no family."

"No, none. He had no prison visits in the almost two years he was there. Then he was transferred to a low security mental facility, from which he escaped." He heard Dave sigh.

"Keep me in the loop, Derek, please."

"Will do, Dave. Is the doctor there yet?"

"Yes. I'll pass you over."

Morgan explained to the doctor that he was going to try and get Reid released from custody, and wanted to know if he would be well enough to leave the hospital if he was successful.

"He has had a major depressive episode." the doctor replied. "Physically, he has recovered, but I don't think he has mentally yet. I don't think he would be a danger as long as someone remains with him."

"So you think he could leave without it being dangerous for him?"

The doctor said it would be ok, and that was what Morgan had been hoping for. "Thank you, doc."

The police were not helpful though. They couldn't release Spencer on bail on Morgan's recognisance. He was a suspect of attempted murder of an FBI Agent, and so didn't qualify for bail.

"Understand please, Agent Morgan, that releasing a prisoner who claims to be innocent, so that he can track down the real culprit is not something that we do."

Morgan put the handset down, noticing as he did that his knuckles were white on the receiver. He slowly limped back to the conference room.

"CPD have called back." JJ said, putting down the phone. "It is quiet at the Davenport's. No one answered the door."

"Ok," Morgan said. "Let's go find out why."

-0-0-0-

A few doors down the corridor from Reid, Hotch was starting to notice things again.

In the distance he could hear a heart monitor beeping. Was it his? He tried to remember what had happened.

He could remember being worried about Reid. Yes. Reid coming into his office.

Suddenly he remembered. Reid shot him.

The pain and shock of remembering made him cry out loudly in distress.

Reid had shot him!

Why?

He tried to lift his hands; he needed to check out his body, and see how much damage had been done, but his arms felt awkward and heavy. Carefully he turned his head, and saw that his arms from the elbows down to the hands were strapped onto boards, and there was a drip in his wrist.

The movement of his head made him feel very sick, and his head was spinning wildly. He moaned in confusion. What was going on? He reached out for the call button and called the nurse.

"Well hello!" she said smiling. "It's so good to see you. Would you like a drink?"

Aaron nodded. "How bad?" he asked.

"You were shot three times." she said, sitting on the chair next to his bed. One to the chest and one to the shoulder, those wounds are healing fine. Your lung collapsed, but that is working well again. It is the stomach gunshot wound that is giving the most trouble." She paused.

"Tell me." Aaron said. "I need to know what I'm up against."

"You have peritonitis that is proving difficult to get rid of." She placed her hand over his. "That is quite common with stomach wounds."

"And what else? Don't keep it from me."

"Mr Hotchner, you have a bruised spinal column. It may recover, or it may not. You have no stimuli response below the waist at the moment. This might get better though. We don't know."

Aaron's eyes widened. "Paralysed? Is that what you are saying?"

"Yes. But possibly not permanent." she squeezed his hand. "We need to get you out of bed to see just how extensive it is."

Aaron turned his face away from her. He hated this powerlessness. He didn't want anyone to see him so weak and pathetic. He thought he might cry.

"Please, leave." he said, keeping his voice steady. He felt her release his hand.

"Call me if you want to talk, won't you."

Aaron nodded his head without looking at her. He felt tears fall; tears of frustration and feelings of inadequacy. Every agitated breath, every movement brought waves of nausea with it. There were some kidney bowls on the table, and he took one off the top and held it under his chin. Between the sobs, he heaved and threw up into the bowl. It felt as if his head would explode.

This couldn't be happening. Shot by a close friend, and now crippled.

He wiped his mouth on a tissue, then took another one for his eyes. Then he threw up again.

_Oh god...help me!_

He cried and threw up and cried some more.

_Why did you shoot me, Spencer? Please, come and tell me why?_

Aaron lay again on his back, and the tears turned to tears of fright.


	12. Sorrow and Shame

Chapter 12  
Sorrow and Shame

"_**Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts." - Charles Dickens**_

Spencer lay still on his back thinking of Aaron, and his last visit to him. The whiteness of his sleeping face against the dark hair across his forehead haunted his dreams, and the sorrow that he had done that to him filled his waking thoughts. He was gradually remembering what had happened on the day of the shooting, and it terrified him that he had been conditioned to shoot someone that he loved so much. He had shot the most important man in his life, with less hesitation than he would feel shooting an UnSub, and it sickened him. He longed to be able to beg Aaron's forgiveness, plead with him. Whenever the doctor came in to check on him, he always asked if there was any change in Aaron's condition, and the answer was always no. The doctor said that today, Reid would be released into police custody. He had to get to see Aaron before that happened. If he was tried and found guilty, he would never have the chance again.

"Excuse me." he said in a small voice to the cop who was 'guarding' him. "I need to ask something important."

The cop folded the corner of the page over and closed the paperback he was reading, and looked over at Reid.

"Yes?"

"Please, I need another chance to see Agent Hotchner."

"I doubt if there will be a chance of that." the cop said. "Not after last time. But I could ask."

The cop got up with a weary sigh. He quite fancied a coffee himself.

Reid sank back into the pillow as the cop, glad to be doing something other than reading, got up and left the room.

Aaron was so close – only two doors away, and yet he couldn't see him. It hurt so much. It had been so easy to hang himself. And yet, here he was still. Why didn't they just leave him? He pulled angrily at the cuffs holding his wrists, rattling them against the metal bars.

"Why didn't you leave me to die?" he screamed into the air. "You should have just left me there..." The words he was crying degenerated into bitter sobs as he thought about his dearest friend. He wanted to curl around his pillow and scream and cry and vent his dreadful grief. But all he could do was lay on his back and feel the tears run down the sides of his face into his hair.

_I am so sorry, Aaron. I am so sorry that I was weak and allowed myself to be brainwashed into hurting you. I always wanted to be strong, but I am no better than my pathetic father – weak and pitiful and cowardly. I didn't deserve to have you as a friend. _

When he got back to the cells, he would try again, and this time, he would succeed.

-0-0-0-

The depleted team were on the jet heading for Connecticut, and the home of the Davenports. They tried to phone every half hour but there was still non contact either on the landline or Mobile. There was always the chance that they were away on holiday, but then they should be able to contact them on their mobile phone.

Morgan could remember the case clearly, and so could JJ. Emily had the case notes on her lap, and was reading through them, familiarising herself with the details.

"I agree with what you said. It is highly likely that Shyer would go back to the Davenports," Emily said, "especially as he had a 'friendship' with Evan Davenport."

"Well, we will find out in about half an hour." said Morgan. "I am going to ask you two to do most of the leg work."

"How did he pass his psych eval?" Emily said."It's not easy to bluff that test."

"Reid, I think, bluffed all his." Morgan said. "Shyer is a very clever man. He managed to get into the safe house team, and get a bug into the room. I wouldn't put anything past this man. We will need to be extra vigilant on this case."

Morgan's phone rang. His heart missed a beat when he saw that it was the hospital calling him.

"Morgan." he said, his voice slightly shaky.

"Hello, Mr Morgan. We have some good news about Agent Hotchner."

"Good news?" he repeated, almost afraid to believe the evidence of his own ears.

"Indeed, yes. Mr Hotchner had woken out of his coma, and is talking. We have extensive tests to run, but the brain damage appears at this stage to be minimal."

Morgan let out a shuddering sigh. "That is good news. Thank you. What about Agent Rossi?"

"There's no change there. He's resting and healing. Spencer Reid is being released from hospital today into police custody. I hope they keep a closer eye on him now."

"So do I." Morgan said. "And thank you for calling me."

Cutting the connection, he passed the news on to Emily and JJ. "Looks like we will be getting our Unit Chief back." he said with a little smile.

-0-0-0-

"Now, Aaron, you have to try."

Aaron scowled at her. "No." he said. "I do not."

She pulled the sheet back, and wrapping her arms around his chest, she pulled him into a sitting position. He put his hands down on the bed to balance. He was determined not to get upset.

"If I have to do this, I wish to do it in private." he said. He hated to show any weakness, and it distressed him that he was going to have to do this in her presence.

"I am sorry, Aaron. I have to be with you, in case you need help.

Aaron wanted to be left alone to be sad. He didn't want to be nurtured. He had never felt this hopeless and depressed, even when Haley had left. This was his life though. He could get over Haley. In fact, he already had. But how would he ever get over being a useless cripple?

"Please..." he said, his voice breaking. "Please, leave me alone."

_Don't cry, you wimp. Don't you dare cry!_

But as usual, his body disobeyed him, and a tear pressed its way out between tightly closed lids.

"I c-can't do this. Please leave me."

Rachel felt an overwhelming urge to hug him. She reached out her hands to him, and he leaned forwards towards her. She took him in her arms and held him to her, one hand on the back of his head, the other around his waist.

"Aaron, Sweetheart. You have to try." she whispered to him. He shook silently, and she felt the dampness of his tears. She knew this was a terrible exposure for him, and that if he let down his barriers, he might never be able to build them back up again. This was his strength, and it was slipping away. He had his arms around her and his hands on her back. She wanted the embrace to last a lifetime; he felt good against her, and he smelled sweet.

She held him until the shaking stopped, and his clinging to her loosened. She drew away from him, and looked into his eyes.

"Please, Aaron. Try just once. Would you feel better if I locked the door?"

Aaron nodded, afraid to speak. His face was damp and his eyes stung. He didn't want to let her see him cry.

Rachel locked the door and came back to him. She put the parallel bars at right angles to the bed and locked them in place.

"Ok, Sweetheart, let's give it a go."

She turned his body, and lifted his legs so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs between the bars.

"Now, can you lower yourself onto the floor, and hold onto the bars."

Aaron looked at the contraption. She could just as well have asked him to scale Mount Everest.

"I c-can't."

She stood in front of him, arms forward ready to steady him. With tear filled eyes, he looked at her, trying to find the courage from somewhere. All the times he had faced an UnSub alone, like when he had gone into Brian Matloff's line of fire on his own, faded into nothing compared with the courage he had to find now.

"Come to me." she said.

Aaron manoevered himself to the edge of the bed, struggling to keep a balance. He reached forwards and clutched the bars, and carefully lowered himself off the bed. The feeling of numbness was frightening, as he tried to feel his feet on the floor. But there was nothing. His legs hung uselessly from his body. His arms trembled as they took his weight.

"There's nothing..." he said, as his arms bent. She put her arms around his chest and held him.

"That's fine." she said, taking his weight, and helping him back onto the bed. "It was the first time. Each time will get a little easier."

Aaron said nothing. He felt ashamed and worthless.

"Please leave me..." he said. He rolled onto his side and faced away from her, hugging his pillow, and crying hopeless tears. He didn't move for a long time after he heard the door close.


	13. Let Me Help

Chapter 13  
Let Me Help

_**Captain Kirk said to Edith Keeler, "'Let me help.' A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He'll recommend those three words over 'I love you.'" (City on the Edge of Forever)**_

Reid was led out of his room under guard. His hands were cuffed in front of him, and his ankles were chained. The shame and disgrace was overwhelming; the sound of the chains clanging, and the feel of them against his skin made him dizzy.

"I'm going to f-faint." he said. "Please, i'm..."

His knees buckled as he struggled to stay upright and keep walking. His head was swimming, and he collapsed onto his knees, his hands on the floor in front of him.

"Get up, Cop-Killer" the guard behind him said, jabbing him in the ribs with the gun he was carrying. Spencer looked up at him, and climbed to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Sorry." he whispered, but no-one was listening to him.

He was taken along the passage past Aaron's room. The door was slightly open; not enough for him to be able to see in, but enough for him to hear Aaron' heart-broken sobbing. Reid turned to the cop beside him.

"Please," he said. "Please, let me see him before I go back. Please let me help him."

His eyes were wide and tear filled, but he was ignored. They pushed onwards along the passage towards the door. There was a vehicle waiting outside to take him back to the remand prison. He looked back over his shoulder as he climbed up the steps into the back of the van. He sat down on the bench and hung his head in sheer misery. His life had ended. He just wanted the chance to finish the job.

He thought about the people he had worked with. How would they ever trust him again? Weak, wretched and not worthy of their friendship, he would save them the agonies of having to pretend.

_I'm sorry, Aaron. I really tried. Just get well, please, and live..._

-0-0-0-

Two floors up, Dave was getting frustrated and angry. His hands wouldn't work, and even eating was proving beyond him. His legs hurt and his fingers were in agony as he tried to pick things up. He swept the bowl off the table onto the floor, and put his hands against his face. He sighed with regret. He rarely lost his temper, and when he did it was always at himself. He rested his elbows on the table and closed his eyes. He needed to get out of this room. He was going stir crazy stuck in here. He called the nurse.

"Sorry about that." he said as the nurse came into his room. "This is driving me nuts."

He had a half smile and a contrite glint in his eyes.

She smiled at him as she picked up the bowl. "Don't worry about it Dave. If you need help, you must ask. Don't just struggle on."

"Can I go and visit another patient?"

"You mean the other FBI agent?" Rossi nodded. "I'll see what I can do." She put the bowl on his table. "Do you want anything else to eat?"

"No. It's ok thanks." He attempted a smile. "But a visit to Hotchner would be wonderful."

After she left he sat and practiced bending his fingers. He scrunched his eyes up in pain, as he forced his hands to do things they no longer wanted to do, but he needed to be able to fire a gun. At the moment, he doubted if he could even pick one up.

The nurse came back in. "I've called up to his ward, and they have said yes. They think it would be a good idea." She wheeled a chair up to the bed. "Maybe you can help him. He is awake, but he is paralysed from the waist down. He is in a bad way. You might be able to help him."

_Paralysed? Oh god! Poor man!_

"I hope I can." Dave said. He looked at the chair. "I ...er...I think I will need some help to get into that!"

"I'll help you!" she smiled

Dave turned so that he was sitting on the side of the bed. She held him under the arms, and lifted him into the chair.

"Thank you." he smiled over his shoulder as she wheeled him to the lift.

He was looking forward to seeing Aaron. He hadn't had a visitor since he'd been in the hospital; the team were busy tracking down the UnSub, and with three men down, they had no time for hospital visits. On their way now to Connecticut, it would be a while now before he saw anyone from the team. And he had no-one else.

When they got to Aaron's room she left Dave outside while she went in to check if it was ok with him to have a visitor.

Aaron was lying on his side on his bed, facing the wall.

"No." he said quietly. "I don't want any visitors." His voice was broken and harsh from crying, and his breaths came in ragged sobs. "There is no-one I want to see."

"He's waiting outside, Mr Hotchner. He has had a difficult journey to get here. Please, at least say hello."

Aaron turned to face her. "I said no. Why ask me if I want a visitor, if you are just going..."

He stopped mid sentence as he saw Dave in the doorway.

"Hello, Aaron. I needed to come and see you."

Aaron turned back to the wall again. "Dave, I don't want anyone to see me like this."

Dave wheeled himself closer to the bed as the nurse left them alone. "When you say 'like this' do you mean 'in need of help'?"

Aaron didn't answer, but Dave could see his shoulders shaking as he was overcome with grief again.

"It's ok to need people, you know." he said, reaching out his hand and resting it on Aaron's back. "It gives others a chance to show we love you."

Aaron slowly turned around and faced Dave. "I am the Unit Chief, the team leader. How can I lead when I'm like this? I'm useless now. I have already proved to the people who matter that I'm no good as a husband and father. Now I can show everyone that I'm no good as an FBI Agent either."

Dave's heart went out to him. "Aaron, I have known you for many years, and I think of you as more than a colleague. In many ways we are alike. We both try and stand alone, never showing weakness, never needing anyone. "

Aaron turned to him again, not bothering to check the tears. He allowed Dave to hold his hand.

"But sometimes," Dave went on, "It doesn't work. Sometimes we need other people to survive trauma. I have learnt that. Now you must learn it too."

"Dave, I was two things. Two things defined my life. One was Family man, husband and father, and that has been ripped away from me by someone who I thought loved me. The other thing that defined who I am was Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Now that's gone. Dave there is nothing left. I am nothing, worthless."

"Aaron, it's not gone. You just have to find it again. Please, let me help you." Dave took Aaron's other hand, and felt a shiver run through him as Aaron responded to him. "When I left the FBI to write my books and teach, it was the ongoing trauma of that old unsolved case that drove me out. I had tried 'family man' and failed, and I failed as FBI Agent too. But I couldn't run away. It was there, dragging me back and wouldn't let go. Eventually I had to give in to it and come back. It's the same with you, Aaron. You are pushing that identity away. But it won't let you go. It will always be there. Like you said – it defines you." Dave could feel his own tears now. Partly for himself, but mostly out of empathy for Aaron. "Please, Aaron. Let me help."

Aaron pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the bed, leaning against the metal railings of the head board, dragging his useless legs up the bed. "Dave, I can never be an agent again. I'm a cripple. What use am I to the team, or anyone else?"

Dave very carefully stood up on his crushed and damaged legs, taking care not to show how painful it was. This was more important than any pain he could feel. He turned so that his back was to the bed, and using the strength in his arms, he lifted himself so that he was sitting on the bed.

"Let me help." he said, and held his arms out to his friend. He put his hands on the tops of Aaron's arms. Aaron leaned forwards, and Dave embraced him. They held onto each other, each imparting strength, each gaining courage from the other.

"Thank you, Dave." Aaron cried softly. "Thank you for being there for me when all I wanted to do was push you away."

"It's ok, Aaron. We'll get through this together."

The two men clung to each other and rocked gently until one of them fell asleep. Dave carefully laid Aaron down on the bed, making him comfortable.

"Good night, Aaron." Dave brushed the stray hair from Aaron's face. "I'll visit you again tomorrow."

-0-0-0-

Across town in a small grey painted cell, another man cried for a life lost.


	14. A Rescue and a Failure

Chapter 14  
A Rescue and a Failure

"_**We can consciously end our life almost anytime we choose. This ability is an endowment, like laughing and blushing, given to no other animal... in any given moment, by not exercising the option of suicide, we are choosing to live." - Peter McWilliams**_

Reid sat on the uncomfortable bed in his cell. Everything that he could see was grey. The walls, the floor, the sheets... his mind...

He sat and planned his death with the precision with which he once planned his work. They checked on him at five minute intervals. So he had five minutes to do this. He opened his hand and looked at the tiny piece of glass. It had been laughably simple to get it. Just fake a dizzy spell, and pick it up. But this sliver of glass was going to be his salvation. He closed his fingers over the shard as he heard the door along the corridor open.

_Here they come to make sure I'm not dead. How long are they going to keep this up? I expect I will be here for the rest of my miserable life. Might as well make their jobs easier..._

The little sliding hatch opened and the guard looked through at Reid. Reid looked up at him, and nodded slightly.

_I'm still here, still alive..._

Then the hatch closed. Reid opened his fingers. The glass had cut into his palm and he hadn't even felt it.

It didn't matter which wrist he did first. Both his arms had the same strength. He took the glass in his right hand and turned his left hand palm up. It was easy to stick the glass into his white skin. He pushed it in as deep as he could, and still have enough to grip. It hurt more than he expected, but it was ok. A few seconds of pain, and then nothing would ever hurt him again.

The blood trickled down onto his hand. He wanted to leave a message for Aaron, but he wasn't allowed a pen. He put his right forefinger in the blood pooling in his palm, and wrote on the floor with it.

_Sweet Aaron, I have loved you for a long time. Please live, and if you can, forgive me. Reid_

There was much he wanted to say, but time was running out. This was his last chance. His right hand was slippery now. He wiped the blood onto his jumpsuit, and gripped the glass. It took quite a lot to drag it through the tissues of his wrist; sinews and blood vessels. But when he hit the artery, it became suddenly easier. He pulled the glass out and watched the spray in amazement. He directed the blood onto his bed; he didn't want to obliterate the message he had written. He passed his right hand through the red fountain and marvelled at its power. He suddenly felt light headed – for real this time. The piece of glass slipped out of his hand, and he felt a surge of panic. How was he going to do the other wrist?

Then he realised he wouldn't have to. He fell forward onto the floor, and he watched the blood pump rhythmically onto the plastic tiles. His vision was becoming misty, and he heard the door at the end of the corridor clang open.

-0-0-0-

Morgan pulled up at the end of the street where the Davenports lived. Emily called Garcia to ask if she had anything else before they went in.

"It seems the twins don't live there during this time of year." she said. "They have friends in Canada where they stay for a few months each year, mountain climbing and walking."

"We are about to make contact with Evan Davenport. " Emily replied. "I'll call back if we need the girls' phone number." She cut the connection and told Morgan what she had learned.

"So it's only the father here then. Let's go."

It was early morning and today hadn't started for most of the residents. He and Emily left the car and walked to the gates of the house. There was an intercom on the gate. Morgan buzzed.

"I don't think we are going to get an answer." Morgan said after a few minutes. "Are you up to climbing the gate?"

"Sure I am." Emily said, pushing the gate open. "But I don't think we are going to need to!"

"Something is definitely wrong." Morgan said, as they slipped through the gap and pushed the gate closed after them. "Evan Davenport was always security conscious. I should imagine more so after the kidnapping, not less."

They crept up to the house, keeping in the shadows. It wasn't fully light yet. They drew their guns ready, and pushed open the front door.

"Mr Davenport?" Morgan called into the dark interior. He switched on his flashlight and swept the beam across the large hall.

"Something has happened here." Emily said softly. On the floor were the remains of pictures that had been pulled off the walls. They looked as if they had been stamped on. Morgan turned some of them over with his foot.

"All these pictures seem to be of the twins." he said, suddenly feeling of tightness in his stomach. One by one, he and Emily checked the rooms downstairs. Nothing was touched except the girls' pictures, and in one room, tennis trophies had been thrown across the room into the wall.

"Looks as if the obsession has turned from 'love' to 'hatred'." Emily said. Morgan nodded in agreement.

Silently the two agents crept up the stairs, and checked the bedrooms. The same here as downstairs, except one small room.

"Hey Morgan, check this out." Emily said.

They shone their torches into the room. There was a single bed, covered in a sheet. On the table there were some used syringes, and a bottle of saline. Emily bent down and picked up a multi-adapter.

"There is only one electric socket in here." she said. "It looks like there were several things plugged in."

"This is where they brought Reid." Morgan said. "So where is Davenport? And where is Shyer?"

"Let's check the basement." Emily said, making her way down the stairs.

The door to the basement was by the kitchen. Emily was about to open it when she noticed something.

"Morgan, I think we have blood here." she said, concentrating her torch beam on a dark patch on the floor.

Morgan opened the door and listened. There was no sound. He reached out and switched on the light.

"Well, I guess we've found Davenport." he said.

There was blood on the steps down into the basement, and at the bottom of the steps was Evan Davenport's body. Emily descended, careful to not disturb the blood. Evan was laying supine, eyes closed, and bound with duct tape. She touched his neck. Davenport groaned painfully and opened his eyes.

"Morgan, he's alive!"

He called the emergency services and the Connecticut PD, and followed Emily down the stairs. Emily pulled the tape off Evan's mouth; Morgan went to the tap and got some water.

Davenport's breathing was rough and irregular. It looked as if he had been beaten. His face was cut and bruised, and his chest had several marks that looked like fist imprints.

"Mr Davenport," Emily said gently. "We are FBI. You are safe now."

Morgan bent down beside him and offered him water which he drank gratefully.

"He came back." he said, his voice dry and harsh. "He wanted to know where Trish and Cheryl are." He took some more water. "Didn't tell so he beat me"

Morgan rolled up his jacket and slipped it under Davenport's head.

"The emergency services are on their way, and the police." Morgan said. "There are just a couple of things we need to know." Morgan held up a picture of Vincent Shyer. "Is this the guy?"

Davenport nodded.

"And how long ago did he leave?"

"Two days." Davenport croaked weakly. "Didn't tell him... "

Davenport passed out. They could hear the emergency services in the distance.

-0-0-0-

"So where would he go?" Morgan paced the conference room.

"He could be anywhere, planning his next victim." Emily said. "He has no credit cards, and if he has a phone, it's a disposable. We'll not be able to find him. We will have to wait for him to contact us."

This was so frustrating. They knew who they were looking for; name, photo, even his social security number. But he could be anywhere in the United States.

JJ came into the room. "I've just called Connecticut CSU." she said. "They found Reid's DNA on the bed posts. They said it looked as if he had been bound to the bed with Duct tape – the same stuff as was used on Davenport. The cut tape was by the bed, and had DNA and hairs on it. There were also traces of a hallucinogenic drug on the bed."

"So Reid put up a fight then." Morgan said. "And they should be able to prove that he was acting on a post hypnotic suggestion when he shot Hotch."

"Then charges will be dropped against him." said Emily."Can he have visitors yet? He really needs to know how this is panning out."

"It was still 'no' yesterday." Morgan said. "But I'm going to call them and insist."

He reached out his hand to the phone, but it rang before he could pick it up.

"Morgan."

"Hello, Agent Morgan. This is the...er... Remand Centre, Quantico." Morgan felt a cold hand touch his heart. "I regret that I have ...um...bad news for you."


	15. A Reunion

A/N I apologise for the standard of this chapter. I've got a headache and I can't concentrate. Sorry ppls

Chapter 15  
A Reunion

"_**Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven." - Tryon Edwards **_

Morgan slowly replaced the phone. Emily and JJ sat still and waited.

"It's Reid. He's tried again. He's...He cut his wrist. They found him lying on the floor bleeding out."

"Oh god." Emily said. "Is he...I mean, did they get to him in time?"

"He was alive when they found him. He's back at the hospital now. You two go to the hospital so that there's someone there when he wakes up." They got up and quickly went to the door. "And watch your backs." he called after them. "Shyer is still out there."

Morgan was going to the Remand Centre. He had a few words he was saving up for the guards who were meant to be watching Reid, and then he needed to see the Judge about getting bail for him. Reid would still have to face a trial, but with the evidence they now had, it would be easy to get the charges dismissed.

If he lived that long...

Morgan felt really sick. His ankle and wrist were hurting badly, and he knew he had to get them looked at. But this was priority. He picked up his crutches, and hobbled to the lift.

-0-0-0-

He stared into Reid's room, totally horrified. Blood had congealed in a thick dark puddle on the floor of the cell, and the bed was soaked. But the most horrific thing was the message to Hotch written on the tiles. Morgan put his hand over his mouth.

_Oh my god, Kid. Why did you have to do that?_

He had called the hospital twice already, and Reid was still having his wrist fixed. He really meant it this time. The cut was to the bone in places, and a lot of blood had been lost.

He turned away from the cell. "Who was watching him?" he asked in a low angry voice.

"There were two of us on duty." a young man of about twenty said. "We were checking him every five minutes."

"This was a suicide watch!" Morgan said, fuming at the indifference these men were showing to Reid's life. "Do you know how long it takes to bleed out?"

The two guards were clearly intimidated by Morgan. "F-five minutes is the standard length of time. This was all by the book." the second guard said. "And we didn't think he had anything to cut himself with."

"You didn't think, period!" Morgan was shouting now. The next step was to hit someone. He turned away from the two guards, and looked into the room again. The desolation and loneliness hit him hard. Reid had been treated badly. Now he, Morgan, had to what he could to make it up to him.

"I want a photograph of this floor." he growled, and he made his way back to the lift. He had an appointment with the Judge in ten.

-0-0-0-

Emily and JJ were taken to see Reid as soon as he was out of recovery. Only one of them was allowed in at a time, so JJ waited outside. Spencer was very pale, and looked like a little boy lying there with his eyes closed and his hair across the pillow. His left wrist was heavily bandaged, and his face was tear stained. Emily went and sat by him, and took his right hand. His eyes flickered open, and the hazel eyes looked somehow bigger as they stared sadly into Emily's.

"Hey!" she said, brushing his hair off his forehead. "Welcome back."

"I f-failed again." he said, his voice breaking and soft.

"You gave us a fright there, Spencer. But you are going to be ok now." she said, squeezing his skinny hand. "We know you are innocent, and we have the evidence to prove it."

"But I'm not innocent, Emily. I shot him."

"You were drugged, Spencer. It wasn't your fault. Morgan is trying to get you freed on bail." she smiled at him, although she wanted to cry. "We need you on this case."

Reid turned and looked at her. "Do you know who the UnSub is?"

"Vincent Shyer. He kidnapped the Davenport girl."

"Ah yes. Connecticut."

"And now he's trying to bring down the BAU. So Reid, you get well. We need you."

A tear escaped his eye and trickled down his cheek. Emily took a tissue and wiped it away. "JJ wants to see you; she's waiting outside." She let go of his hand and stood up.

"Emily..." she turned back to him. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For believing in me. I would never hurt Aaron...never."

"I know." she said softly. "I know."

-0-0-0-

In another room, not so far away, Aaron was struggling with the bars again. He carefully lowered himself off the bed, holding the bars tight. As his bare feet touched the floor, he felt a little shot of pain up his calf. He gasped at the unexpected sensation.

"Hey! Rachel, I felt something then!"

He balanced on his feet, quickly moved his hands along the bars, and swung his legs forward.

"It's coming back!" Aaron's eyes glinted with excitement. "I can do this! Finally, I can do this!"

"Didn't I say you would eventually?" she said. "It just takes patience and practice. Just go easy, now Aaron. Be careful."

"I'm going to try another step." Aaron bit his lip and concentrated. He winced as the pain shooting up his calf intensified. "It's hurting...Oh it's really hurting!"

Aaron yelped in pain, and his knees buckled in protest. He fell to the floor before Rachel could help him.

"Why did that happen? I don't understand." He felt angry, betrayed by his own body. "How long is this going to take?"

"It's ok, Aaron. It's early days. You have to give it time." She lifted the bars out of the way, and stooped down behind him. "Here let me help you get up again."

"No. Please. Please leave me alone now." Aaron pushed her away. "Just go."

"Ok." She touched his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Aaron closed his eyes in frustration. Yes, he had feeling in his legs. But the feeling was pain. And it was agonising. He attempted to crawl to the bed, but it hurt way too much.

So he curled up on his side on the floor and cried softly.

_I'm never going to do this...I'm just a waste of time..._

-0-0-0-

Morgan came out of the Judges chambers with a smile on his face; probably the first smile since the shooting. In his pocket he had the paperwork that secured Reid's bail, and he was going straight to the PD now to secure it.

The cab was still waiting for him outside. It was pleasant to be driven around, but this driver was so slow! Morgan leaned forward.

"Can't you speed it up a bit? This is urgent."

He got in return a look that said, amongst other things, 'No.'

Morgan sat back and tried to keep calm. All he wanted to do was get Reid out of that place and back where he belonged.

-0-0-0-

Reid had asked Emily and JJ to leave him to rest. He wasn't used to having people around him, and he felt suffocated. He told them he wanted to sleep, but he just stared upwards at the ceiling. His wrist hurt, telling him he was alive. But inside he felt dead.

He pushed back his covers, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. They had relaxed the guard, and he took his chance.

His legs were shaking and weak, as he put his weight on them. He took a couple of experimental steps along next to the bed where he could hold on, then he took a tentative step towards the door. He knew where he was going, and he was determined.

He opened the door slowly and peered out. There was no-one about. He couldn't understand why he was not being guarded, but he didn't care why. He was just pleased that they were gone. He could see the lifts just along the corridor, and holding onto the handrail that was on the wall, he slowly walked to them.

He knew which floor he wanted, and was pleased that he didn't have to wait long. The longer he stood here, the more chance of getting sent back to his room.

He pressed the button, and as the doors closed, he leaned on the back wall.

Almost there...

The lift stopped suddenly before his floor. The doors opened, and two nurses got in. He held his breath, waiting for them to ask him who he was, but they chatted to each other about the double date they were going on, and didn't notice the skinny bloke in the hospital pyjamas. The next floor was his, and he passed the girls and stepped out into the familiar corridor.

Second door along.

He reached out for the door handle and froze.

How would he react to him? Would he be happy to see him, or angry? Would he reject him?

Whatever the reaction, he was prepared to accept it.

He turned the handle and biting his lip, went into Aaron's room.

Reid was surprised to see the bed empty, and untidy. He went round the side of the bed, and that was when he saw Aaron lying on the floor. Quickly, all self concern dissipated, he knelt down next to him. He gently shook him, noticing how cold he was. He was sleeping, but he looked as if he had cried himself to sleep. His face and hair were damp with tears. He was breathing steadily, but he didn't wake up.

"Oh Aaron, I am so sorry." Reid didn't have the strength to lift him, so he pulled the covers and pillow off the bed and wrapped the covers around him and put the pillow under his head. Then he lie down next to him, and put his arms around him, holding his trembling body close.

"Please forgive me..."

He put his head on the pillow behind him and felt Aaron's hair on his face. He closed his eyes and sighed.

At last...


	16. Home Again

Chapter 16  
Home Again

"_**A friend is someone who helps you up when you're down, and if they can't, they lie down beside you and listen.**_" _**Anon**_

There had been a mix up. The guards were called away when the charges were dropped against Reid, but no-one thought to tell him, or continue the suicide watch. Emily looked in on him before she and JJ returned to base, expecting to see him sleeping, but his bed was empty. Horrified, she raised the alarm, and the search began.

The roof was the first place that came to mind. She and JJ were almost too afraid to look. But to their relief, Reid wasn't there, or lying on the ground below.

They thought he could be in one of the many closets and small rooms doing whatever he had planned. They began a systematic search.

Aaron woke up on the floor of his room. At first he couldn't remember why he wasn't on the bed, and then he remembered how rude he had been to Rachel. Then he felt the arms around him.

He turned his head and looked at Reid. Instantly his mind flashed back to the shooting. His mind told him this was the man who had tried to kill him, and very nearly succeeded. His heart though saw a man who needed him. He had heard the theories that Rossi had told him, about post hypnotic suggestion, and decided, on looking on Spencer's sleeping face, to believe that.

"Hey, Reid." he softly said, touching his cheek with the back of his hand. "Spencer, wake up. I need your help."

Reid opened his eyes. The usually clear eyes were bloodshot, and when his eyes met with Aaron's sad dark eyes, he looked away.

Aaron put his fingers under Spencer's chin and tilted his head back to meet his eyes again.

"I need you to help me." he said. "I can't use my legs. Will you get me up on the bed?" Aaron pushed with his hands so that he was sitting up. "Please?"

Reid was shocked. He didn't really know what to expect, what Aaron's reaction would be, especially after what happened last time. He blinked in surprise, and moved away from him. He stood behind Aaron and held him under the arms and lifted him. Aaron tentatively put his feet on the ground and groaned in pain.

"Oh I'm sorry, Aaron. I hurt you again." Reid was devastated. Aaron was crippled; He had ruined this man's life, and here he was asking him for help.

"It's ok. The feelings are coming back, just in the wrong order." he managed a rare smile. "It's a Good Thing."

With Reid's help, Aaron got on the bed, and sat leaning against the head board. Reid stood beside him, and refused to meet his eyes.

"Aaron, I am so sorry. I don't know the words to tell you how I feel. If I could do anything to change things..."

"It's ok, Reid." he said gently. "I understand what happened."

"I will quit the BAU, Aaron. I can't expect to..."

"Resignation not accepted." Aaron said kindly. "You were drugged and used. No fault lies with you. If it goes to trial I will be speaking in your defence."

"But I..."

Aaron put his finger on Spencer's lips.

"But nothing." Hotch said. "All I ask is that you stay around and help me walk again."

Reid felt tears come into his eyes. That Aaron even wanted to be in the same room as the man who had shot and crippled him was amazing enough, but to forgive like this was...well, again, Reid didn't know the words.

"You are a special person, Aaron." He reached up and held Hotch's wrist. "'Thank you' isn't big enough."

It was Rossi who found him in the end. He had insisted on being included in the search, and after trying to think like a profiler, he went to Aaron's room.

He stood leaning on his crutches and watched the two of them talking through the window for a few minutes. He took out his mobile and called Emily.

"I've found him." he said. "He's with Hotch."

He knocked on the door, and Hotch called him in. He went into the room and closed the door behind him. He went and sat on the bed with great relief.

"Hey, Reid. Charges have been dropped. There is no case against you." Dave said. "You are free."

"So what's been going on?" Reid asked. He sat on the bed next to Aaron. "Who is the UnSub? You have him?"

"No." Dave said. "But we know who he is and his motive. We just have to catch him. That shouldn't take long." Dave looked round as Emily and JJ arrived. It was a tableau neither wanted to forget, after all the recent angst.

"I was just about to give a rundown on the case." Dave said. "But now you are here, Emily, maybe it should come from you."

"I'll tell Morgan."JJ said. "Maybe now he'll get his ankle and wrist checked out."

JJ left Emily to tell the others how the case had panned out. She had a smile on her face, wishing she had a camera.

-0-0-0-

Morgan was getting a telling off from the doctor who was trying to set his wrist and ankle.

"You shouldn't have left it so long." he said crossly. "Do you know how difficult it makes our job?"

"I had things to do that were more important." said Morgan, equally crossly.

"I could plaster the ankle, but I think it would be better left now, unless you want it broken and reset."

"Look," Morgan said, his voice starting to rise. "I've managed this long. Maybe I should just leave it."

"I'll strap it, and bind the wrist. The x-rays show that the bones have already started to heal." He scribbled something on Morgan's notes. "I'll send a nurse in to do that for you." Angrily he snapped the folder closed and left.

Morgan sat and smiled, bemused. He just wanted this all over ASAP so that he could get back to work. It looked as if very soon now the team would be intact. Dave and Spencer were able to leave the hospital, and he didn't think Hotch would sit around here for long before he discharged himself, even if it meant going to work in a wheel chair.

The curtain brushed aside as the nurse came in with a trolley.

"Hello Mr Morgan" she said. "This won't take long.

He smiled up at the nurse in his charming disarming way.

"Hi!" he grinned. "Call me Derek."

-0-0-0-

That evening, Dave and Reid were allowed to go home. It was especially strange for Reid. He hadn't been home since he had left on the Friday morning for work on the day before 'that' weekend. He really wanted someone to come back with him, so he asked Rossi if he would, just for an hour or two, have a drink maybe, help him settle in.

"Yeah, I'll do that." Dave said. "You'll need a lift home anyway. I'll stop for a six pack on the way."

Spencer called the others to come round, and they had a little impromptu party, although Spencer felt guilty at having one with Aaron still in hospital.

"We'll have another one when Hotch gets to go home." Garcia said, dishing out Phish Phood for everyone. "Who wants choc sauce?"

Morgan had limped over, without his crutches, with a crate of Stella, and Emily and JJ brought wine and nibbles.

So that's why Dave stayed at Reid's apartment that night. Morgan escorted the girls home in a taxi, and then went home himself.

They all decided to get back to work the next day, and try to get back into a routine. Shyer still needed to be apprehended. The case wasn't complete, and it didn't feel right. Until they could see the man who could have done so much damage safely locked up, they still had a sense of danger. They hadn't finished, but they thought he hadn't finished either. It wasn't a nice feeling.

-0-0-0-

Aaron lay in bed that night going over what had happened during that day. He felt uncomfortable lying there when his team was in danger. He didn't need to be here. He could leave now, and go back to work and do what he was supposed to be doing, that is, working with and protecting his team.

He wasn't on any drips, all his meds were by mouth, and he could travel back each day for physio. He sat in bed and rubbed his legs. He was sure that feeling was coming back, although he had thought that before, and it turned out to be wishful thinking. He was still getting some pain from the gun shot wounds, especially the stomach wound, but that would go soon.

In the morning he would have a go at using crutches. The best way to walk again, he decided, was to practice. Then he would go to work.

He turned onto his side, and pulled the covers around his shoulder. As he closed his eyes to sleep, he felt arms around him and he smiled.

-0-0-0-

In a car just along from Reid's apartment block, a man sat with a pair of binoculars on his lap. He watched with interest as Morgan left with the women and they got in a taxi.

So Hotchner wasn't home yet.

Well, he could wait. And knowing Hotchner, he wouldn't have to wait for very long...


	17. A Surprise

Chapter 17  
A Surprise

"_**The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral; returning violence with violence only multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars." Martin Luther King, **_

It was sheer determination and will power that got Aaron across the room with the crutches. Although he had got some feeling back other than pain, the pain was still there. It felt like burning, and each time his feet touched the ground, the flames seemed to wrap themselves around his legs. But with half of his mind keeping him vertical, and the other half stopping him from crying out, he managed a circuit of the room. Rachel stood back and watched. At first she had been reluctant to come back, asking one of her male colleagues to 'see to' Aaron, but he insisted on seeing her, and he apologised for his behaviour. She accepted the apology with alacrity.

"How long will the burning sensation last?" Aaron had asked her. "Or is it permanent?"

"There's no way to tell." she said."It could be because of one of two reasons. Either your legs are sending the wrong signals, in which case it could get better, or it is caused by the brain misinterpreting the signals. You were without oxygen for a long time, Aaron. We can't rule that out."

Aaron said nothing for a while. He sat back on the bed and thought about it. If the pain didn't stop, he doubted he would have the strength to keep this up. He wanted to scream with frustration.

Instead he said, "Ok, I can walk with the crutches. I would like to discharge myself now."

"But you can't!" said Rachel in horror. "You aren't ready!"

"I can walk, take my meds, that is enough." Aaron reached for the call button. "I will come in each day for physio."

"Tell him he can't go home." Rachel said to the nurse when she came through the door.

"Please can I have the papers to sign to discharge myself?" Aaron asked with a sweet smile.

"I could see this coming." she said as she left the room.

-0-0-0-

Aaron sat on a wall outside the hospital and waited for a cab. It suddenly dawned on him that probably for the rest of his life, everything he did was going to hurt. He wasn't at all confident in his ability to cope with that. He put his foot down onto the ground experimentally and moaned in pain and screwed his eyes tightly closed. This was going to be an endurance test. One that he had to pass if he was to keep his job.

A cab pulled up beside him.

"Mr Hotchner?"

He nodded, and slipped his arms through the crutch handles, and held the grips. He stood, and although he tried not to make a sound, he did anyway. The driver got out and opened the cab door for him. He picked up Aaron's bag, and put it in the boot. Aaron slid into the back seat and put the crutches on the floor. He gave the driver his home address, and sat back.

As they drove through the town, he watched the people walking along the path. They didn't appreciate how lucky they were, taking their freedom to get about for granted. He had been the same, he knew. He decided not to look. Instead he stared down at the crutches; possibly a permanent part of his life now.

Not if he could help it!

The cab pulled up outside the house. The driver asked if Aaron wanted him to go up the drive. Aaron thanked him, but said no. The driver put Aaron's bag on the path, and Aaron paid him. As the cab drove away, Aaron looked down at the bag at his feet.

_How the hell do I get this bag indoors?_

He used to be good at problem solving. But that was before.

He bent down, and looped his arm through the shoulder strap. The pain in his legs was excruciating, but he managed to get the strap across his shoulder. Carefully, painfully, and oh so very slowly, he hobbled to his front door.

The next hurdle was putting the key in the door. His eyes were watering, and he was shaking; unlocking the door seemed to be beyond him. He stood up straight, and took a few deep breaths, trying to control the shaking, then he had another try. This time the key slid home, and he unlocked the door.

He reached in and switched the light on. He hadn't been home for a long time. Someone had been in and picked up his mail and kept the place clean.

Dave. A good friend.

Aaron leaned on the wall, and carefully slid down so that he was sitting on the floor. He wanted three things: Coffee, a hot bath, and clean clothes. Then he would go to work – surprise them all! He felt quite excited at the prospect.

He crawled to the bathroom. Ok, not very dignified, but it didn't hurt as much and nobody could see! He reached up and turned on the tap, and crawled to the kitchen.

Making coffee was not quite as easy. The kitchen counters seemed very high from his position on the floor. He decided to leave the coffee, and get one at work.

The stairs. He wasn't sure if he could get up the stairs, then he remembered that he had a suit and shirt in the utility room, just back from the cleaners. Great, he thought. I don't have to tackle the stairs today.

Back to the bathroom. He turned the taps off, and contemplated how he was going to get in the water. With a lot more difficulty than he had anticipated, he undressed and pulled himself up to sit on the side of the bath. He lifted his legs into the water, and would have screamed in pain, if the heat of the water hadn't taken his breath away.

With the greatest of care, he began to lower himself into the water. Suddenly his hand slipped and the resulting tidal wave emptied a third of the water onto the floor.

Aaron swore, and then smiled in satisfaction when he realised that was the first time he had done so since the shooting.

_Hey! That's not bad!_

Cautiously, he examined the still raw scars of the gunshot wounds. The extent of the scarring shocked him; he hadn't realised how bad they were, and how lucky he was to be alive.

Shyer had almost won – with him anyway.

Shyer had killed Elle, badly hurt Morgan, and Rossi with him, and almost sent Reid over the edge. They were all lucky to be alive still.

But Shyer was still out there. Aaron had to get back to work and get this madman back behind bars.

But first he had to get out of the bath without breaking his neck!

-0-0-0-

Two hours later he stood, on the crutches, outside his house, waiting for a taxi. He felt excited, like a child going on holiday. He was so looking forward to being with his friends again.

He stepped back and sat on the wall. No point in being in pain when he didn't have to be. When the taxi arrived it was the same guy. This time he got out again and helped Aaron get in the car. He thought that was going to happen a lot, and it made him feel inadequate.

Sitting in the back of the car, he began to regret his decision to come back to work. He felt very vulnerable and helpless, and was scared he would let the team down. He would have to keep out of the field and co-ordinate things from the office.

He was so deep in thought, he didn't notice the car pull out of the trees and follow the cab at a discreet distance.

-0-0-0-

He paid the driver again. He had been dropped outside the underground car park. He could either walk round to the main entrance, or go through the car park.

He put the crutches on the ground in front of him, and swung forwards. He was getting pretty good at this. If only it wasn't so damned painful! He took a few more steps into the darkness of the car park. There was lighting, but the sun outside was bright today. He stood still and blinked as his eyes got used to it, and then started forwards again.

About half way across, he thought he heard someone behind him. At first he wasn't particularly un-nerved. Often agents came down here on their breaks to get something from their cars, or sometimes to just have some quiet time.

But when someone suddenly grabbed hold of his upper arms from behind, he felt a real fear surge through him. He was in no position to defend himself. His gun was on his belt, but he couldn't reach for it.

"Just how many goddamned lives have you got, Hotchner?" hissed the man whose fingers were digging painfully into his arms.

"Hello, Shyer." Aaron said, keeping his voice steady. He stood still, waiting for Shyer to make the first move. Not that Aaron had a choice. His eyes started to water as the pains in his legs increased, and Shyer's fingers dug deep into the muscle of his arms. His trembling fingers started to loosen on the grips, and he realised that he was standing in one of the few places in the car park where the security cameras didn't reach.

Shyer knew what he was doing.

"You and your team of amateurs destroyed me." He gripped harder, and Aaron gasped. "You took my job, my family, and my life. Even my girls you took. Well, now it's my turn."

Suddenly, Shyer swung Aaron round to face him. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and Aaron fell back onto the tarmac. The crutches slipped out of his grip, and he lay there helpless. His dark eyes drilled into Shyer.

"Give up now, Vincent, while you still have some dignity." he said "You can't hope to get away with assaulting me here, right under the noses of the FBI."

"But my dear Aaron," Shyer said sweetly. "I don't want to get away!"

He picked up one of Aaron's crutches and swung it down. It caught Aaron under the chin, and his neck cracked painfully. His teeth bit down into his tongue and his mouth filled with blood. Aaron lifted his hands in front of his face to try and protect himself as the crutch was raised again. It cracked down onto his forearm, and he cried out, hoping there was someone down here who could help him. As the metal crutch swung down again, he curled himself away from the attack, and it caught him on the side. He gasped softly in shock, and rolled onto his front, attempting to crawl towards the cameras. Shyer smashed it down on the small of Aaron's back. He howled as the metal crutch impacted against his already damaged spine, and he fell on his face, and realised he had no hope of escaping. The next blow was to the back of his head, and he was unconscious before his brain registered the impact.


	18. Do or Die

Chapter 18  
Do or Die

"_**Retribution often means that we eventually do to ourselves what we have done unto others." Eric Hoffer**_

Shyer picked up the other crutch and threw them both under the nearest car. Then he took Aaron by the wrists and pulled him between that car and the one parked next to it. He took a roll of duct tape from his pocket and bound Aaron's hands behind him, then pulled him up and wrapped the tape around his body, holding his arms firmly. He tore off a short length and covered his mouth. He didn't want him shouting out. Not yet any way.

He pulled him behind the car and sat him up, leaning against the wall. He smacked him about the face a few times until he showed signs of coming round. Aaron groaned and opened his eyes. A livid mark across his jaw was starting to show, and blood was trickling from his mouth.

Shyer stooped down so that their faces were level.

"So the boy genius managed not to kill you then." he said, a smirk on his face. Aaron stared at him in defiance. "This is plan B and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Let me show you."

Shyer pulled a small bag from his back and opened the zip where Aaron could see. Aaron's eyes widened in horror when he saw the bomb in the bag.

"It's only a little one, but then it's only for the BAU." He zipped it up and swung it onto his back again. Then he took a small switch device from his pocket. He showed Aaron. He didn't need to say anything. He grinned and put it back.

Aaron shook his head. He wanted to try and reason with him; that was what he was good at; talking down the UnSub. But then Shyer knew that, which is why he had taped his mouth. Aaron made a sound in his throat, desperate to speak.

Shyer knew what he wanted. "Not a chance. We are going upstairs, and I am going to kill you in the bullpen, where you colleagues can see. Then I will blow the lot of them to Kingdom Come."

He took Aaron's gun from his belt and threw in under the car with the crutches. Then he took the one from his ankle. "I'll hang on to this one." he said, putting it in his other pocket. "I won't be using it though. I prefer this." He took a leather knife sheath from his belt, and slid out an eight inch serrated knife.

Aaron struggled; Shyer hit him in the face, sending his head spinning. "We can go up with you awake, or you can be unconscious. It's all the same to me."

He pulled Aaron upright with his hands on his shirt front and tie. Aaron whimpered as the weight went onto his feet. Shyer let go, and his knees gave way instantly, and he fell forward. Shyer picked him up again.

Aaron's eyes were watering, the burning on his legs made him want to scream. Shyer held him still.

"Can't stand?" Aaron shook his head. "Ok, then I drag you."

Shyer took Aaron's key card out of his jacket pocket.

"Right, Hotchner, Let's go!"

Aaron was repulsed to see Shyer was smiling. The grip on his shirt tightened, and the madman dragged him to the lift. Using the card, he quickly called the lift and pushed Aaron inside. The lift was already at the floor. Aaron's hope that the cameras would signal a warning was dashed as the door closed again. Shyer pushed Aaron against the wall.

Aaron fought back with everything he had, which wasn't much. Shyer hit him again, and before he could recover, he grabbed Aaron's hair with his other hand and bashed his head on the lift wall, stunning him. He was surprised to see blood on the wall, and realised that the beating he took in the car park had actually wounded him. Aaron moaned again, and his eyes rolled in their sockets. He was conscious still, but dazed and, Shyer thought, pretty useless.

Shyer stopped the lift and pulled Aaron round so that he had his back to him. He put his left arm over Aaron's right shoulder, and around his chest, under his right arm, holding him tight against him. Shyer's other arm went under Aarons right arm, holding the knife on his neck. He stuck the knife in a little bit, just enough to draw blood.

It ran in a thin stream down onto his collar. Shyer noticed that the pristine white shirt now had blood spatter down the front from his bleeding mouth. He thought it looked very effective. He smiled again, and started the lift.

When the door opened on the floor where the BAU worked, nobody noticed at first. Shyer pushed the semi conscious man out in front of him, and half carried, half dragged Aaron onto the walkway.

Emily was the first to notice. She stood up quickly, gun drawn.

"Morgan!" she yelled. "It's Shyer!"

Morgan swung round in his seat, drawing at the same time. Shyer stuck the point of the knife deeper into Aaron's neck. Aaron whimpered as new blood flowed, and his body twitched as the pain registered. He blinked slowly and opened his eyes. Emily and Morgan didn't waver. Emily's knuckles were white on the gun.

"Guns on the floor. Or I cut his goddamned head off!"

She glanced at Morgan, who nodded slightly. Slowly they put their guns down.

"Right, Morgan, call the rest of the team in here." When Morgan didn't move, he pulled Aaron tighter against him, pressing the knife on the unprotected skin of his throat, cutting a shallow red line. "NOW!"

Morgan reached for the phone, watching the knife against Aaron's neck.

"And I'll know if anyone's missing. And put it on speaker. I want to hear what's being said."

Morgan picked up the phone and switched it to speaker. "Dave, we need you in the bullpen."

"Why? What's going on?"

"It's about the UnSub."

He cut the connection, and looked up at Shyer. "That's it."

"Where's the autistic geek? Where is he?"

"He's out in the field." Morgan said.

"His car is downstairs!" Shyer screamed. "Get him here now!" He stuck the point of the blade into Aaron's flesh. Aaron twitched and his eyes rolled.

"He took a Bureau car!" Morgan yelled, stepping towards Shyer. "Don't cut him!"

Dave Rossi came out of his office and stopped short when he saw what was going on. He drew his gun and pointed it.

"Let him go or I blow your head off."

"Put your gun down, or I cut his throat." For a second, Dave didn't move. Then Shyer moved the blade and cut deeper. Dave heard Aaron sigh softly., and he let the gun hang on his finger, and bent down, carefully putting it on the ground in front of him.

"Over there with those two."

Dave moved to stand with the others, hands up in front of him, palms out. He watched Aaron unwaveringly.

"The blonde tart and the computer geek. I want them." He pulled Aaron's head back. The shallow cut started to pour. Aaron's eyes widened and he shook as he felt the warmth of his blood run over his collar and onto his shirt.

"Agent Jareau isn't part of the team. Garcia isn't an Agent, she's a technical analyst."

"I want them in here, or I kill him now."

Morgan looked at Hotch. He was shaking; his face white and his knees were bent. He was close to collapse.

"Jareau and Garcia aren't here either. Garcia is off today, Jareau is with the Police Commissioner."

Rossi stepped forwards. He needed to take control. "What do you want, Shyer."

"Not you. Or that woman." He looked at Emily. "You can go."

Emily glanced at Rossi. Dave's eyes flicked to Reid's desk and back to Emily, hoping that she would understand.

She nodded ever so slightly, and started to move towards the walkway.

"Other way. Through the emergency exit. I don't want you warning anyone. And leave your key card behind."

Slowly she took her card and put it on the desk. Then she backed towards the emergency exit, and pulled the door open.

"Go." Dave said softly, not taking his eyes off Hotch.

"You!" he said to Dave. "I don't want you either. You can go. Do the same as the woman."

"You are holding the Unit Chief there in front of you." Dave said. "When he is down, I am acting head. This is currently my team. I stay."

"Very well, you can die with them. It's all the same to me." Shyer said. "Sit against the far wall. I want to show you what I have in my bag."

Dave and Morgan slowly walked backwards to the wall and sat down. Shyer descended the steps into the bullpen, dragging Aaron down with him. He wasn't moving now. The front of his shirt was soaked red with blood.

Dave was frightened for him. He was seriously hurt. What the hell was he doing out of hospital, and even more, what the hell was he doing coming to work?

_Ok, Emily, it's up to you now_


	19. Spencer

**DEDICATED TO LITTLE SIS**

Chapter 19  
Spencer

"_**No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his body - to risk his well-being - to risk his life - in a great cause" - Theodore Roosevelt**_

Reid was in the library. There was a pile of six books on his left, and eleven on his right, and one open in front of him. He was running his finger down the page at the rate of about one page a second. No-one took any notice any more. No-one said, 'Are you reading that?' or 'What are you doing?'. He was glad they didn't. It was very off putting if every half a book he had to stop and explain, yet again.

But when his phone rang in the silence, the withering looks he got from the other users were worse. He fumbled in his messenger bag in a panic trying to find the offending phone. He could see the light flashing, but he couldn't see the phone.

He knelt on the floor. By now there were several pairs of eyes watching him – the freeky-geek from up-stairs.

Spencer up-ended his messenger bag on the floor, and retrieved the phone. It had stopped ringing and the screen said 'Prentiss – missed call'.

He pressed 'call' and at the same time scooping some things back in the bag, some things in his hands and under his chin then hurrying out of the library, saying 'sorry' as he tried to escape their annoyed stares, dropping things on the way. The door swung closed behind him as Emily answered.

"Sorry," he began.

"Never mind, Reid. Just listen." she said."Shyer is in the bullpen, and he has got Hotch with a knife to his throat. I don't know what he is planning, but he still has Morgan and Rossi up there."

"How did you escape?" Reid asked.

"He sent me away. He only wants those involved in his arrest. He thinks you are in the field."

"Why has he still got Rossi?"

"I don't know." Emily said. "I think he may have refused to leave. He's acting Unit Chief while Hotch is down. And Reid, Hotch is pretty bad. He's been beaten and cut."

"I'll get a team together." Reid said, already thinking who he would have.

"Reid, he's on a knife edge. I think a SWAT team crashing in there wouldn't be a good idea; he'll kill Hotch with no hesitation."

"Ok, I'll get him out." Reid said. "I have to."

Before Emily could say anything else, Reid closed the phone, and took the stairs up towards the BAU. When he got to the floor below, he left the main stair well and took the emergency stairs. Without a key card the door into the bullpen couldn't be opened from this side. He un-holstered and cocked his gun, and very carefully, he swiped his card, hoping that no-one could hear on the other side of the door. A soft click, and the door latch pulled back. Reid held the door in place for a minute, then allowed it to open an inch. The door led into the bull pen main office, and he quickly took in what was happening.

Dave was kneeling against the wall to his right, his head hanging forward, and his hands were taped in front of him. Morgan was behind him, binding tape around Dave's legs. About ten feet in front of him was Shyer. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, his feet between Shyer's legs, was Aaron. His hands were held behind him with duct tape, and there was tape around his chest. Shyer was holding him up by his hair, a switch between his thumb and fore finger, a knife at Aaron's throat. Aaron's eyes were closed, and he had tape over his mouth.

Reid's stomach lurched seeing the blood on Aaron's shirt, and the cuts on his neck. Shyer was pulling Aaron's head back, exposing his throat, and pulling apart the slit in the flesh already cut. Aaron's skin was un-naturally white.

On the floor between Shyer and Rossi was a small bomb. He saw Morgan eye the device while he wrapped tape around his own ankles and wrists. He knelt next to Dave.

Then Rossi spoke.

"What are your demands, Shyer." he said. Shyer pulled Aaron's head back further. Reid heard Aaron groan as his neck bent at an angle it wasn't created for.

He was still alive. He wasn't too late.

"Don't speak, David. You had a chance to leave, and you chose to die with Derek. You made the choice, and now you must live with it." He made a sound that could have been a chuckle. "Although you won't be living with it for long."

"We can negotiate a settlement here." Rossi continued, an attempt to shift control from Shyer. "We need to know what your demands are."

"Be quiet." he growled, sliding the knife tip into the cut on the left side of Aaron's neck. "Or you will get a taste of Hotchner arterial spray. I have no demands. What I want is right here. I will destroy the BAU, starting with Hotchner, and my little device will finish off the rest."

Reid let the door close silently. Somehow he had to get behind Shyer. It was no good trying to get Dave and Morgan to distract him because Shyer would simply cut Aaron's throat. He quickly brought up a picture of the bull pen in his mind, and planned.

-0-0-0-

"If you blow us up, and you lose your life, no-one will ever know what your grievances are." Dave said, leaning forward.

Shyer said nothing for a minute while he thought about Dave's words. Absently he twisted his hand in Aaron's hair and fingered the button. Dave held his breath, Aaron whimpered as his head was wrenched to the side.

"You make a good point, David." Shyer said. "I need to let people know." He placed the knife on Aaron's cheek, the bloody blade pointing upwards towards his eye. "Derek, I want you to make a phone call." He gripped Aaron and took a mobile out of his pocket. He threw it to Morgan.

"Who do you want me to call" Morgan asked.

"The paper, Manassas Journal Messenger. I want them to know what's happening here, and why." he said. "On speaker."

Morgan said, "I need the number."

"I will give you the number. 703 555-3101 Move carefully, Derek. If you make a false move, Hotchner loses an eye."

"Ok, I'm dialling now." Morgan's voice wavered slightly. He watched The knife.

Awkwardly, with bound hands, he keyed in the number, and switched to speaker.

"Manassas Journal Messenger. Martin Young here."

"This is Special Agent Derek Morgan, FBI." he said, without taking his eyes off the knife. "I have a story that you might be interested in."

"Nothing to be said to anyone until tomorrow." Shyer said. "The story is happening now, and you must not speak of it until it is over. Do you understand? You may take notes, but no recordings are to be made. Clear?"

"Absolutely." Martin said."What is the story?"

Morgan began to tell him, starting with the kidnap of Patricia Davenport.

-0-0-0-

_Great! That gives me some time, and the attention is away from Aaron._

Reid inched his way along the walkway, he would be clearly visible to Shyer if he turned around, but he relied on Dave and Morgan to keep his attention.

Shyer fingered the button in his hand, and rested the point of the knife against Aaron's eye lid. Reid held his gun ready to fire if Shyer made any move against Hotch. Morgan had seen Reid, and now kept his face turned away, talking to the man on speaker.

"Enough!" Shyer said to Morgan. "This isn't a history lesson. Just tell him why I am going to kill Hotchner, and then the rest of you."

"What is the reason?" Morgan said.

"Because you destroyed me. My life ended that day. Yours will end today!" he shrieked. "Starting now!"

He lifted Aaron, putting his arm around his neck in a wicked stranglehold. As he tightened his grip, the slashes on Hotch's throat made a horrible wet sound. For just a moment, the knife was not touching Aaron's skin.

That was when Reid made his move. He vaulted over the rail knocking Shyer and Hotch over sideways. Aaron rolled out of Shyer's grasp but didn't move. His eyes remained closed, his body limp. The movement opened the wounds, and the bleeding intensified.

Reid was on Shyer. Shyer was on his back, pushing Reid's gun away from his face, Reid trying to force Shyer to drop the knife. For a moment, neither moved, reaching an equilibrium in strength. Reid stared down into Shyer's eyes, and Shyer stared back with equal intensity. Slowly, Shyer bent Reid's wrist so that the gun was pointing at Reid's forehead. Reid looked at the gun and concentrated all his power on moving the gun away. Shyer took his chance, and plunged the knife into Reid. At the same instant the gun discharged.

Again the tableau froze. Reid's eyes widened in shock as Shyer wrenched the knife out again. He dropped the knife, and his arms slowly clutched at his neck. His head rocked to the side, and a trickle of blood ran from his mouth as his eyes glazed over.

Reid made a sickening gurgling sound and as if in slow motion, fell sideways, the gun falling from his hand. He fell onto his back, one arm stretched out beside him, the other hand fluttering feebly against the growing red patch just below his sternum. He turned his head, and his eyes locked on Hotch.

"Aaron..." he whispered, and he stopped moving.


	20. The Final Meltdown

Chapter 20  
The Final Meltdown

"_**Forgiveness is the ultimate sacrifice." - Serj Tankian**_

Sounds filled the air. The gunshot died away, replaced by people shouting.

Calling him? He tried to turn his head towards the voice, but vision was distorted.

The back of someone's head; dark hair, sliding out of focus. He blinked, tried to form a word.

He saw a hand, and he twitched the fingers...his own hand, he reached towards the dark hair and tried to form the word again...

"...Aaron..."

The word bounced around in his brain until he wasn't certain who had spoken it. His fingertips touched the hair, something not right...blood?

He turned onto his side and heard a scream moments before he felt the pain that triggered it.

"Oh god...oh..." Again, his vision lost focus as he tried to get closer to Aaron.

He felt hands on his shoulder, and someone turned him onto his back again. Soft dark eyes looked down into his.

"Ok, Reid. Lie still. You've been hurt. Medics are coming."

"Dave..." Reid spoke softly. "Aaron..."

"Shh. Don't try to speak. Stay with me now."

Dave took Reid's hand and moved it away from the wound in the centre of his chest, pressing his own hand there instead. Reid groaned, and shook his head slowly. He whispered Aaron's name again. Rossi looked over at Morgan, who was carefully removing the duct tape from Hotch's mouth. His hands were now free, and Aaron was lying on his back, arms at his sides.

Morgan had removed Hotch's tie and unbuttoned his blood sodden shirt. There was a swelling on his side, and a long narrow bruise where he had been hit with something. He was bleeding internally. Very carefully Morgan tilted Aaron's head back and exposed the jagged rips in his skin. None had hit an artery, but they were deep in places, and the blood flow pulsated as it ran down the sides of his neck. Morgan quickly removed his own shirt and pressed it gently around Hotch's neck.

Hotch's jaw was bruised, and it looked to Morgan as if it could be broken; the two sides didn't seem to line up properly. Very gently, he took Aaron's face in his hands.

"Hotch...Hotch, open your eyes for me."

His black lashes stood out in stark contrast to his white skin and the scarlet blood on his mouth. Nothing moved.

"Hotch, can you hear me?...please, open your eyes."

Morgan checked his pulse again. It had been weak but regular, now it was thready. Morgan resisted the urge to shake him. He could see that he had been hit with something, he might have been beaten. He didn't want to hurt him any more.

Aaron's hand lifted from the floor. Morgan held it in front of him with both his hands.

"Shyer..." Aaron whispered.

"Shyer's dead, Hotch. Reid killed him."

"Reid?...is here?" The effort of speaking was making Aaron's eyes water. Morgan didn't know if he was crying.

"It's all over, Hotch. Everyone is safe."

Aaron shifted position, and groaned as pain from his side and back twisted through his barely recovered body. His eyes suddenly opened, and he whimpered. His eyes began to roll.

"Hotch! No! Stay here!" Morgan gripped Aaron's hand. "Don't you leave us!"

"Let...me...go..." Hotch's body was shuddering.

"Don't you dare!" Morgan shouted. "You are needed here!"

Reid heard Morgan's frantic cry, and turned towards him.

"Aaron!" Reid feebly tried to push Dave away. "Need to be...with him...don't let him...die..." He cried out to Aaron.

Dave's heart was breaking. "Morgan's with him, Reid. Just stay still."

"P-please, Dave. Move m-me closer to him..." Dave could see that Reid was starting to cry.

"I'll try, Spence." He tenderly placed Reid's hands on the wound in his chest.

"Press here."

He slipped his arms under Reid's slight frame, and lifted him slightly, moving him closer to Hotch. Dave lowered him back down, and put his left hand on Aaron's right hand. Aaron's hand shook and clasped Reid's.

Aaron turned to face Reid, their eyes open wide, searching for each other.

"Thank you..." Aaron softly said, the pain of moving his mouth making him cry.

"I am sorry..." was all Reid could say before his head rocked to the side and he fainted.

Dave took Reid's hand away, and pressed on the wound again. He checked his pulse, strong, erratic.

"Where are the medics?" Dave shouted to the crowd of Feds that had gathered on the walkway.

Two men ran through the crowd, and into the bullpen. They stooped either side of the bomb.

"You all have to leave the room now." one of them said. The crowd on the walkway dispersed quickly, leaving Dave, Morgan and the two injured men.

"And you. You have to leave."

"Go, Morgan." said Dave. "I'll stay with them."

"I'll stay too." Morgan said.

"No," Rossi said firmly. "I want you to go and find out where the medics are, and call the others and tell them what's been going on. They need to know that Shyer can't hurt them now."

Morgan gave Dave a pleading look, but Dave shook his head. "Go."

Morgan looked down at Hotch. "I need to go now, Boss-Man. Dave's here."

With a final glance at Reid, Morgan left the bull pen. As he approached the lift, the medical team exited. Morgan pointed down, and took their place in the lift car. The doors closed on the scene.

Morgan stopped the lift between floors. He yelled and screamed at no-one in particular. He punched and kicked the walls, leaving dents in the checker plate, and after a few attacks, small droplets of his blood as his knuckles split. He leaned back on the dented wall, and bent forward at the hips. He pressed his bleeding fists into his eyes.

"Oh God, please don't let my friends die..." and he ran out of words. He sank down so that he was sitting on the floor, and cried into his hands. "Please, God, please."

It took him a few minutes to regain control of himself. Breathing heavily, he stood up, and resumed his journey to the ground floor. This was one of the many times he was glad he was black. His skin didn't go red and blotchy when he cried. Only someone who knew him well would know he had been crying.

The door opened onto the foyer, and Garcia stood up as soon as he stepped out of the lift.

"Emily called and told us." she said. "Are you ok?" She opened her bright orange bag and took out a packet of multi coloured balm tissues. She pulled out a pale green one, and passed it to Morgan. "Come and sit down."

She put her arm around his back, and led him to the seats where she had been sitting with Emily and JJ.

"Did Reid make it?" Emily asked. "Hotch? Is he?..."

"He killed Shyer..." Morgan said, his steady voice belying his trembling body. "Hotch..."

"Is he?... He's not...is he?" JJ said.

"Oh no!" Emily said. "It was my fault. I said..."

"It's ok." Morgan said. "They were both alive when I left. Medics are with them. The BDU are up there. Rossi stayed with Hotch and Reid." Morgan put his hand on his forehead. "Crap! What a damned mess!"

"It's over now, Babe. It's ok now."

"It isn't. I was there, and I couldn't do a damned thing." he shouted "Hotch bleeding to death in front of me, and I did absolutely nothing."

He looked up. The few people in the foyer were looking at him.

It was time to pull himself together. He was the senior agent here, and he needed to show it.

"Princess, go and see if you can get the security tapes for the car park in the last two hours. How did Shyer get in here?"

"Ok," she said, standing up. She looked at Emily. "Look after him."

"Sure." Her mouth twitched into a smile, but it didn't touch her eyes. She took Morgan's hands.

"Let's clean these up."

-0-0-0-

The bomb squad had made the device safe, and taken it down to the lab.

Two medics knelt either side of his injured colleagues. He heard Aaron cry out as one of the medics touched his side. A knot in the pit of Dave's stomach twisted at the sound.

_Aaron, you are my best and only friend. Please don't leave me..._

Rossi watched the medics carry Aaron and Spencer to the lift. Back to hospital! Again. Dave's knees had seized up, kneeling on the floor for so long. He got his phone out as he painfully moved into a sitting position. He called Morgan, then JJ to let them know.

Then he called Strauss.

"Shyer is dead, Ma'am." he said."His body is up here in the bull pen." He quickly told her about the last hour, and closed his phone. He didn't want to talk to her. He groaned as he straightened his legs, and then lay back on the floor, totally exhausted.

_You should have stayed in the hospital, Aaron..._

He suddenly realised what he had said and started to laugh.

When the rest of the team came back into the office and saw Dave lying on the floor laughing hysterically, they thought he'd finally lost it.

-0-0-0-

END


End file.
